Railgun
by becuzitswrong
Summary: Instead of getting the power to control insects, Taylor receives a different power. A power seen before in A Certain Scientific Railgun.
1. Arc 1: Loading—101

**Railgun**

**Summary:** Instead of getting the power to control insects, Taylor receives a different power. A power seen before in A Certain Scientific Railgun.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Worm or A Certain Scientific Railgun. Both belong to their creators. I am merely using them in my own sandbox.

**AN:** In my story, I have given Taylor the same powers as Mikoto Misaka of A Certain Scientific Railgun with certain small changes. I extrapolated small changes and additions to her powers based both on what I saw on the show and what she should be able to do. Some abilities have not expressed themselves yet, but will emerge in the future.

~~~Railgun~~~

**Arc 1: Loading—1.01**

I skipped out of class as soon as the bell rung, searching for a place of safety to eat lunch. An hour was far too long to have for lunch in my personal opinion. I slipped into the girl's bathroom, hoping for sanctuary. Finding it unoccupied, I slipped into a stall, locking the door behind me. I glanced up uneasily as the lights flickered, then sighed when it went back to normal. I quickly sat on the back of the toilet, my feet on the seat so no one would be able to easily find me.

Just like that, a sense of relief filled me. I was safe for now. Unwrapping the sandwich I brought for lunch, I ate it and an apple in quick, sharp bites, as I read the book I'd brought for company. Sadly, books were the only company I'd had for the past year and a half since starting high school.

It had all started right before my freshman year. Looking forward to seeing my best friend since first grade, Emma Barnes, for the first time in two months, having been off at Summer Camp, I had been shocked amd hurt when she'd rejected me. Emma had claimed to have a new friend, Sophia Hess, an attractive and athletic African-American girl. And she wanted nothing to do with me anymore. It had made my chest hurt as little stabbing pains seemed to suffuse my heart.

Even Emma's rejection hadn't prepared me for the endless bullying that began with school. There their twosome had been joined by Madison Clements, a sweet-looking girl who always wore a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth expression. Since Sophia was a member of the track team, and my former best friend, Emma, a budding model, they appeared to those in authority an unlikely group to bully others. And were believed every time I tried to tell a teacher or the principal. Of course, reporting it only made it worse.

And it did get worse constantly. At first, it was just words. Talking about how stupid I was. How weak. How worthless. From there, it had slowly escalated to pushing me around, knocking my books out of my arms, constantly bumping into me in the halls. Then I had started finding things in my seat or occasionally dumped on me, orange juice, soda, or glue. All of these slights had hurt, but it was only the tip of the iceberg.

Then they'd started breaking into my locker and stealing and vandalizing my things. Homework assignments would go missing or be covered in soda or juice stains. My books had needed to be replaced twice, something my dad and I couldn't afford. Then, my mother's flute went missing from my locker.

I had brought it to school for a show and tell presentation. It was the most important thing I had left from my mother who had died six months before I started high school. When it disappeared, I was devastated and almost begged Emma for it back. But I had seen the look in her eyes before I asked. She had clearly wanted and expected me to plead with her to get it back and probably planned to mock me because of it. But that was one thing I wouldn't lower my pride to do.

So I had gone home and there, in privacy, allowed the tears of loss to flow. For lost memories and friends. And I retreated further into myself, trying to hide in dull colors and drab clothing.

Not that I was much to look at anyway. I wore glasses and was average in looks with my thin face, wide mouth, and large brown eyes. I was far too skinny and so lacking of a bosom that I could be mistaken for someone years younger. If I ever achieved a B cup I would consider it a personal triumph.

The one vanity I had was my long dark hair that hung in curls more than halfway down my back. It was the one thing that made me look like a girl. I remembered past-Emma telling me how pretty my hair was, back before, when we were friends.

My thoughts returned to the bullying. Yes, it got worse. A lot worse. Horrifically worse. But first, it had seemed to finally start to taper off. It was a couple of weeks before Christmas break of my sophomore year, almost a year and a half after it began. Sophia, Emma, and Madison had seemingly grown bored with me. Still insulting to my face, it seemed they could no longer be bothered to go out of their way to pursue me, as if hurting me wasn't interesting enough. I'd felt almost a feeling of victory as if I had outlasted them. Boy was I wrong. My thoughts drifted to the events of just over a week ago.

_It happened on the Monday after school resumed following Christmas break. It was the end of the day and I wanted to get home. I was running late because I had to make up an assignment that I 'lost.' I was heading to my locker. Opening it, I was assaulted by the foulest smell of my entire life as I saw it filled with used, rotting tampons and dirty toilet paper. _

_My stomach heaved and I bent over to vomit into my locker. I was just started to come upright when someone grabbed my hair, slammed my head into the edge of the locker hard enough to make me see stars, then forced me inside, shutting it behind me. _

_Vision denied me by the darkness, all I could do was smell the filth that surrounded me. I frantically banged on the inside of the locker trying to get someone, anyone, to let me out. Frantically, I begged for help._

"_Please! Let me out! Oh God, someone help me! Let me out! Please!"_

_The only response I got was laughter that I recognized from a hundred cruel pranks. Crying, I continued begging until what felt like hours passed. Finally all sounds outside ceased and I knew I was alone. _

_So much time passed and I was still there. At first I raged against my fate and cursed all of the teachers who wouldn't help me as well as the bullies themselves. I cursed an uncaring administration who preached zero tolerance, but required absolute proof before acting. _

_I could feel myself getting more and more thirsty. My stomach rumbled and ached as well. While intellectually, I knew that I could go weeks without food and days without water, I was anything but calm and logical as I stood there, cramped and hunched over in the dark, frightened and hurting._

_Periodically, I would dry heave, which hurt so bad as only stomach acid would come up. It was the rotted smell. A smell that only grew worse. Of course the worse it grew, the sicker and more nauseated I felt. _

_I lost track of time, hurting as cramps racked my body from my hunched posture. At some point I started to give up, thinking that I would rather be dead than hurt this much. That's when I felt it._

.:Something impossibly vast and incomprehensible:.

.:Enormous, sinuous bodies hurtling through space, moving in an eerie ballet past worlds and suns:.

.:Finally, a destination in sight:.

.:Millions, trillions, of seeds expanding forth in a cloud across dimensions and worlds:.

_It was too much to hold onto, and then it was gone, like something that I almost remembered; a dream from the night before. _

_But I could feel something else. A strange humming seemed to fill me. It sounded in my head until every one of my senses was drowned out by it. It, too, was enormously vast, but I could almost understand it. If only..._

_Then it seemed to vanish, or rather, diminished to almost seem so. And I could feel the locker around me, the six metal walls surrounding me. The lock that imprisoned me. And I reached out and..._

_With a click, it opened. I barely remembered stumbling out. After that, I lost track of things. Later I was told almost a whole day had passed and I'd stumbled out into heavy morning traffic and was almost hit by a car. I ended up stopping commuter traffic on a busy thoroughfare and causing dozens of collisions. An ambulance for me, among others, was called as I was completely hysterical and unable to answer questions. Then I apparently blacked out._

My next memory was three days later. I awoke to find my dad, Danny Hebert, there. He looked tired and drawn, as if he hadn't slept for days. Between sips of water and heartfelt hugs of thankfulness, he explained how worried he'd been when I didn't come home from school. How he'd reported me missing to the police, then gone hunting for me, talking to anyone who might know where I was.

My dad had talked to Emma and her father early on. Emma had told him she had no idea where I could be. That had gone on for the rest of the day before he got the call the next morning that I had been found in the middle of a huge accident and taken to the hospital.

Apparently, all hell had broken loose when the police had investigated the accident. There had been more than a dozen officers on the scene because of the damage done, the injuries suffered, and way traffic had backed up. The accident had caused thousands to be late for work. Investigating officers traced me back to the school by the trail of medical waste I left behind me and found my locker.

From there, it snowballed. A slow news day made this the big story of the evening and multiple news crews ended up doing stories on the incident. And follow up stories as the investigation continued. Then information of the true events of what happened leaked out. Apparently, students who couldn't be bothered to help me still wanted their fifteen minutes of fame as they talked to reporters on camera. And when they spilled to reporters their version of events, the police were quick to follow up.

As more and more students turned on my trio of tormentors, the police made them the center of the investigation. By the time I finally got out of the hospital on Friday, having to actually dodge reporters, two of my three tormentors had been arrested. The exception was Sophia Hess, who had disappeared from everyone's radar.

Dad told me that he had been approached by the school district with an offer to settle out of court for a small cash sum and my hospital bills paid. Not a fool, he had immediately consulted an attorney, who had squeezed them for a much larger sum. He had been able to at least in part because I had kept such detailed notes of the bullying, including any witnesses around, especially if those were teachers. It had created a pattern of behavior that made bullying acceptable, lawyerspeak for 'you're going to pay through the nose.'

After getting out of the hospital Friday morning, I had time to think about what had happened to me. And I remembered the locker unlocking and opening. I knew, deep down inside of me, that I had made it happen. But I needed proof. So I went down into the basement looking for it.

I didn't know how I had done what I did, but I knew it had something to do with metal. At least I thought so. So I grabbed the most basic things in there, a small half inch long screw and its accompanying washer. I set them on a worker bench, staring intently at them, and tried to move them.

Of course, nothing happened. I stared at them for most of an hour and tried to move them. Concentrating. Focusing so intently a headache stirred behind my eyes. I put so much effort into it and gained absolutely no sign of any kind of ability.

Blinking back tears of frustration, I kept trying. I knew I was special. I knew it! Sadly, the evidence did not support my assumptions.

Think, Taylor, I told myself. Put yourself back in the mindset of that day and do it again. Easier said than done. I had had nightmares almost every night because of the events of that day. Nightmares of being back in that darkness, horrific sensations bombarding my senses. It made me reluctant to revisit those memories.

Then I had an idea. I closed my eyes as I acted on it. Instead of focusing on the memories of the locker, I thought about the humming sound. I focused on how it had filled me. How it had overridden all of my other senses. How I had been able to...

I felt them. The metal screw and washer. And with little effort, I moved them, sending them skittering across the the worktable. I was right. I was special. I had superhuman abilities. And I was going to be a superhero.

That brought me back to the present. It was Monday. It had been a week since the the locker and I was back in school. Fortunately, my tormentors were not. Emma Barnes and Madison Clements were on suspension while the police finished their investigation. I heard that they had both been charged, then released to their parents custody. A detective investigating the case said that the likely scenario was that they would get a year's probation and a couple hundred hours of community service for their part in my assault.

The best part was that neither would be returning to Winslow High. Emma's father had already enrolled her in a private Catholic school, St Mary's, while Madison's mom had pulled her out to home school her for at least the remainder of the year.

Of course, I had yet to mention Sophia Hess' fate. It turned out that Sophia was already on probation for something and had been sent off to juvenile detention. The officer had been vague about the exact circumstances, but had told my dad that much. Dad, in turn, had told me. So, all three of my tormentors routed, someone might wonder why I'm hiding in the bathroom.

It was the students. The ones who came up to me on a constant basis and told me that they had always been behind me. Had always supported me, but had been afraid to come forward. I found the hypocrisy stifling. And all the time, they stared at me, as if expecting me to flip out. Despite the thick skin I'd grown under the tutelage of Emma, Sophia, and Madison, I kept getting angrier and angrier by the minute as I was watched and talked about endlessly. I had a pressure in my head that was fueling a constant headache. Hence the hiding in the bathroom.

Finally, though, lunch was over. Then school was over. I was able to get home and continue my experiments on my new abilities for day four of my training.

Setting my stuff on the counter, I hurried downstairs to work on my ability. I needed to get done before Dad got home at six. The last thing I wanted was for him to find out that I was a cape. A parahuman with a scary power to move metal. Neither of us needed the strain this would cause in our relationship.

I had progressed since that first day of screws and washers. Now I was moving around tools like shovels, a saw, and a crowbar. Even the old cast iron weights that my dad hadn't used in years that were piled under a bench at the back of the basement. There was a strange feel to doing all of this. It was less as if I were training a new skill and more as if I was relearning something that I had forgotten or allowed to fall into disuse, only to begin again. I shivered slightly at the thought.

As I prepared to move the next item, a twenty kilogram weight, I felt the familiar crackling of electricity through my body. With a snap and crackle, electricity arced from my hand. I moved the weight several feet away, then back, being more precise each time I did so. Yes, it was exactly as if I were relearning a lost skill. In same ways it scared me, while in others, it was reassuring, as there appeared less chance I'd make a mistake and hurt someone.

When I had first used my ability, I had thought it was some time of magnetic one. Or possible a ferric one, able to move or work with metals. I hadn't been completely wrong, but I had been a little incomplete. It looked like it was turning out that my abilities were based around some form of electromagnetism.

The first time I had sparked when trying to move a larger item, I had nearly jumped through out of my skin. I'd stared at my fingers then at the shovel I tried to move. When I had tried it again, what appeared to be electricity ran from my hand and leaped over to the metal blade of the shovel, moving it to my will. Now, I was growing used to it.

I tried several different combinations of the weights, until finally I was moving them all at once, arcs of electricity connecting me to them. It was surprisingly easy. I allowed them settle back in place and moved to the next test of my abilities.

This next part I hadn't stumbled upon by accident, nor had it felt like a skill relearned. Instead, I made a leap of faith. I'd decided that since my ability seemed based upon electricity in some manner, I could surely use electrical current. It turned out I was both right and wrong in my assumption. When pure electricity touched me, I was able to absorb it somehow, but only after converting it into a form I could use. It was almost like using a voltage adapter. Regardless, it worked as I was about to demonstrate.

I turned on the lamp sitting on the worktable. Of course, a light didn't come on as there was no bulb. I tensed for a moment, then stuck my finger into the socket. These days, I was more nervous of the thought than the action. Immediately, electric current flowed through my body, filling me in a strange and wonderful way. I could literally feel the huge capacitance of the grid that lay behind the lamp. For a moment, my hair stood on end, then settled back onto my shoulders as I absorbed all of the current into myself.

I immediately felt stronger as fatigue was washed away. I still didn't understand the link between electricity and my energy level, but it clearly existed. Of course, I still had to eat, as a rumbling stomach reminded me to grab a snack as soon as I finished. So I couldn't just live on electrical power alone. Not that I'd want to, thinking about my favorite dishes. Favorite dishes that now tasted bland without a nice sprinkle of salt all over the food.

I was now eating way more salt than I ever had before. It was weird, but no weirder than moving metal weights with an electromagnetic field emanating from my body. Everything just tasted 'better' covered in salt as if the food wasn't good enough alone. It was just another mystery that I would figure out eventually. Which brought me back to the light socket and absorbing electric current.

I didn't need to 'power up' to use my abilities. I already had what felt like an endless pool inside of me of energy. I merely did it as a test and because I enjoyed the way it made me feel inside. I pulled my finger out of the socket and gave it an absent stare before turning off the lamp. No point in creating a fire hazard.

Now for the next test. Aiming at the voltmeter, which sat upon a heavy wooden bench, I hit it with a blast of electricity. I then used an increasing series of blasts checking the readings between each. I appeared to be able to easily reach the maximum reading of the meter. Unfortunately, it maxed out at only forty kilovolts. I suspected that I could hit a number several times that. Much more if I were fed additional current.

Being a living taser was a good ability to have for a superhero. Not only a great nonlethal ability, but it would take people down quickly, and in great numbers. And I didn't even have to touch them to do so.

Moving on, I tried using electrostatic cling to stick to the surface of the wall. Altering my charge, I placed my hands on the wall and lifted myself off the ground. I hung there for a little while, but after a few minutes had to let go as physical fatigue got to me. I simply wasn't strong enough to hold my body up on the wall. If I was careful, I could squat, my back against a wall, bracing with my feet. I could hold that one a little longer before the burning in my thighs got to me. I could even climb a shorter wall, but started running out of strength before I got too high. It wasn't like rock climbing exactly, sticking to a wall being a bit more fatiguing.

It was one of the reasons I was running every morning now as well as going through a series of calisthenics. I hoped in a couple of months I would be in good enough shape to be able to climb a midsize building. At least until I figured out the Holy Grail of abilities also known as flight.

I focused my ability on myself, and tried to move my body into the air. Electricity crackled over my form, and for just a moment, I thought I felt like I was lighter. But, sadly, I didn't move. Sighing, I made a note in my journal. No significant progress, but then again, I'd only been testing and practicing for four days.

Taking a deep breath, I moved on. What I was about to do now was something that I had only theorized should be possible, but I wanted to try it today. Again, it was another of those half forgotten skills that I seemed to just know. I picked up a tiny washer from the worktable. It was only a thin quarter inch washer, but I dared not use anything larger for a first attempt. Not because I didn't think I could move a larger item, but because I was scared of the effect it might have. I supercharged my ability, onto and out from, my right hand, as I visualized lightning lashed rails extending into the distance, just visible in some kind of other sight. Finally, I breathed out, flipping the tiny washer into the air just for the visual effect, although I might have to rethink that for actual combat, as dropping it would be embarrassing and potentially dangerous. I released the energy just as the washer touched back down. The sense of acceleration was immediate and intense. There was also a loud crash that completely overshadowed the snapping sound of electricity as the washer blew a hole in the concrete wall at the back of the basement.

I stared at the wall, stunned, as hot little pieces of concrete rained down around me. I ran up and almost touched the concrete surrounding the hole, but drew my hand back instantly because of the heat. Okay, I both had and hadn't expected something like this to happen. Regardless, there was going to be no more training on that particular skill at home. I think if I had used a larger item, like a medium sized nut or metal round, it would have blown a hole in the wall so big that shrapnel might have hurt me badly. Worse, I hadn't even charged my hand up nearly as much as I thought I was capable of.

Thinking about it, maybe I could go to the ship graveyard that occupied the north end of the bay. It was isolated enough that the sounds would probably go unnoticed. That way, I could truly test my 'railgun' ability. Especially apt as I was now considering that for my hero name. Or maybe Magneto.

Nah. The latter sounded far too pretentious, while Railgun had a great ring to it. I just needed to get to the ship graveyard to test its full potential.

Plus, if I could get to the ship graveyard, I could scavenge up some more scrap steel. Which brought up another skill I was working on. I picked up the small piece of flat scrap steel that I was using my power on and slowly brought it to my face. I let it almost touch my face, then allowed my power to take it, tiny snaps and crackles audible as it floated just off my skin.

It was an idea I'd had last Friday for creating a costume inspired by my accidentally picking up this same metal plate and having it stick to my hand. Yet it hadn't touched my skin. I had shaken my hand over and over, but it hadn't let go. I flexed my hand, my power interacting with the plate, and the metal conformed to its shape, while still not touching it. Finally, I had concentrated and dropped it. But the idea was born.

I imagined a costume made of steel, possibly polished to a blinding hue or maybe colored or painted, able to take powerful energy blasts and potent physical blows. It would never touch my skin as it would be held away from my actual body by electromagnetic force. That same force would make it light enough to easily wear, even by the skinny, out of shape girl I was today. I smiled at the thought as I planned for the future.

~~~Railgun~~~

I heard the front door open as my dad came in, his tall skinny shape briefly outlined in the light. He always went in that way as if ignoring that broken step would just make it go away. Sometimes, I had the impression that he thought that if he just fixed it, something else around the house would break. Calling out, "Hey, Dad" I went back to chopping lettuce for the salad I was making.

He smiled at me as he walked in, taking in the smells of pizza and garlic bread. "Hey, kiddo. What's all this?"

I could feel my chest hurt ever so slightly at the happy look in his eyes as he took in the normalcy of the scene in front of him. Just his ordinary teenage daughter making dinner for her hardworking father with not a care in the world. I wanted to confess to being a liar, but instead, I said in a bright tone, "It's dinner. Pizza and garlic bread from Manny's Pizzeria and a salad by yours truly to round things off. I figured we could use some of that settlement money to order out."

Dad walked up and kissed me on the top of my head, then looked over what I had laid out. "Looks great, Taylor. Let me get washed up and I'll be down by the time you finish with that salad."

I smiled, knowing from his answering one that it wasn't as false as it felt. "Sound great. Then you can tell me all about your day fighting for the rights of the little man."

For a second, his smile faltered, then it grew even firmer. "I'll do just that. See you in a bit."

That's my dad, still fighting the good fight as a representative of the local dockyard workers association. I was proud of him for never giving up even when it appeared that things were futile. That the port would never reopen. But Dad persevered because he believed that tomorrow would be a better day.

I stared at a tomato as I chopped it, red leaking out. It looked far too much like blood. Staring at the chunks of red, I couldn't really see tomorrow. Unless tomorrow bled red.

~~~Railgun~~~


	2. Arc 1: Loading—102

**Arc 1: Loading—1.02**

**AN: **I have an entire list of skills that Taylor will attain with her abilities over the course of exploring and training. If anyone has any ideas that fit within the framework of electromagnetism, feel free to leave it in a review or PM. Also, if you see any typos, you won't hurt my feelings by pointing them out. Let me know and I'll fix them. Thanks.

~~~Railgun~~~

It was the following Saturday, day nine of my training. I had gotten up at 6:00 am as per my routine to exercise. The running was still just as hard. As were the calisthenics. I still couldn't do a real push up, having to do it from my knees instead, but I was up to twenty of them at least. I was hoping that it would get easier as time went by, but was probably weeks away from it becoming somewhat easier. Still, today was the day that my training was going to change.

I was finally going to get a chance to test my railgun ability with something heavier than a tenth of a gram metal washer. Excited at the thought, I ran upstairs and stripped off my sweaty clothing. After showering, I got dressed and left the house with my backpack full of odds and ends. I caught the bus and rode it out to the far end of the docks, closest to the derelict ships, then hiked the rest of the way. I closed my eyes as I reached the first ship and reached out with my 'other' senses. There were no power sources closer than two hundred yards, and that one was a buried power line.

Reaching out again, I focused even more intently as I tried to detect the bio-electric fields of people. There weren't any in my range, which I had tentatively figured out to be approximately four hundred yards. Which made it relatively safe to exercise my abilities. Breathing a sigh of relief, I thought about how I had discovered this newest method of using my power.

I had figured it out on Wednesday as the hunted slash crowded sensation I felt while being at school had worsened on a daily basis. I had again been hiding in the bathroom to escape it, but that day, it wasn't helping nearly as much. I had closed my eyes trying to make it go away, but instead of the soothing darkness I expected, I saw glowing lines and shapes everywhere around me. It was my othersight, now seeing more than just the rails I visualized when using my railgun ability.

More fascinated than frightened, it still took quite a while to figure out what each was. Eventually, I figured out that most of the long, linear glowing shapes were electrical lines running through the walls, while the solid glowing shapes in squares and rectangles were pieces of equipment powered up.

And it turned out that the moving, glowing, flickering shapes were people. People, whose movements, health, and emotional states all affected how they appeared to my othersight. And I began to understand just why it was stressful to my senses to have so many people around me. As they went about living life, the changes in their glows had almost a strobing effect, putting pressure on my senses and giving me a headache, which the steadier glows of electric current did not. Still, after a while, I had gotten the sensation under control. I never made it back to class that day, but counted it a good day of learning regardless.

Of course, I had felt weirded out when I had tested it on myself, raising a hand in front of my closed eyes. Instead of another ghostly shape, instead I saw one that fairly blinded me with the light it was emitting. After a moment, though, I decided it went a long way to explaining just what I had become, an electric dynamo or something similar. It was just another piece of the puzzle that I had become.

With one final closed eye look around, I began to scout around for a way aboard. It took a little time to find a safe way to get on the first ship, but eventually I found a ladder that led up onto the deck. From there, I made it over onto the next ship, which had a large hole near its waterline at the rear. I was eventually able to get down to that level, making my way through what seemed like a labyrinth of ladders and passageways, and found the perfect testing ground for myself. Or rather testing pool.

Salt water from the bay filled the area between the two ships with the other ship about a hundred feet away at this point, as they weren't exactly floating parallel to one another. I set my bag down and removed from it several different weights of flat metal circles that I had stamped out using my ability. I had weighed each one, then labeled it with its weight. I was going to use two point five, five, seven point five, and ten gram circles for this test.

But first, I needed to mask up. I took out one more thing from the bag. It was a steel mask, which I placed upon my face, allowing my power to support almost all of its weight. Because it _was_ heavy. The mask had changed dramatically from its first iteration. It had started out as a small domino-style mask, but after thinking about, I realized it wouldn't provide any real protection. So, instead, I had ended up making a full face mask that completely covered the front half of my head.

I had added to the original metal piece using the cast iron weights, essentially molding smaller ones into the larger until I was able to cover my face. Then I worked on the style. I had ultimately decided on a mostly anatomically correct one, with a nose, eyebrows, cheekbones, a mouth, and a chin. What I had done was to make it using sharper planes than a human possessed, with a squared off nose, high, sharp cheeks, and a strong, square chin. The mouth of the mask didn't frown, but neither did it smile, projecting a stern guise. Even the brows added to the strength of the features, being thin, sharp upside-down check marks above the eye slits. The only concession to femininity I'd given the mask was to imbue the features with a certain delicacy, that fortunately didn't seem to steal any of the strength I was trying to project.

The inside was molded to exactly follow the contours of my face, even if the outside looked like an idealized face of strength, allowing my power to float it a quarter of an inch off my skin. All in all, I was completely satisfied with the mask I'd made. Which turned out to be a good thing as the iron and steel it was made from had become increasingly difficult to work the more I 'tempered' the metal with my power. Oddly, it wasn't that it seemed more resistant to my powers, but rather the metal itself had become incredibly tough, harder and stronger than seemed possible. So much so that I started sweating when I tried to adjust the metal now. I could still do it, but it took everything I had, leaving me feeling like a wet noodle afterward.

I wasn't completely sure why this was happening and had done research in the library after school on superstrong forms of iron. So far, I had found a few things it could be, but no certainties. Things like iron whiskers; pure, single-crystal forms of iron, that possessed tensile strength and hardness so far above ordinary iron and steel that it was considered a super material. I didn't know if that was what I had created or something even more exotic.

What I did know was that even though the thinner areas were only a quarter inch thick, no amount of hitting it with a sledge hammer wielded by myself, physically or electromagnetically, so much as scuffed it. I had pounded on it until the hammer itself had deformed without so much as a mark showing on the mask. Now I just had to make more of the armor, until I had a full set. And figure out how to color it, although I did have an idea or two there. First, though, I needed to continue with the test and exercise of my powers.

I flipped the first, and lightest, metal circle into the air. I charged up, invisible rails disappearing from even my vision after a few feet, and then, as it landed on my hand, blasted it into the water. The resulting explosion from the collision blew a huge column of water in the air. I stared, stunned. That had been basically the weight of a dime. Clearly, I'd accelerated it to, or even past, hypersonic velocities. And I still hadn't used my full power. I could feel so much more potential there, like a positive charge aching to arc. As I contemplated the feeling, the beginnings of a tentative grin stretched my lips. Railgun, indeed.

I went ahead and used the remaining weights of metal, with the last one causing a spout of water that dwarfed the first. Almost against my better judgment, I went ahead and used another two point five gram against the hull of the ship opposite me. As loud as the others had been, this one was so loud as to wake the dead as it blew a hole several inches across in the hull opposite, edges glowing white hot from the energy released.

Heart pounding, I decided that was enough of testing of this dangerous ability. I didn't want to draw the Protectorate or PRT down on myself, picturing Armsmaster walking through the door. Another time I would work on measuring accuracy against floating aluminum cans as well as any fatigue factors that might build up. For now, I was going to move on to my next skill.

I stepped to a flat section of wall, or since I was on a ship, the bulkhead. I was going to work on my electrostatic skill next. Adjusting my body's charge, I jumped as high as I could against a metal bulkhead. Imagine my shock at how easily I was able to cling to it. I was only using a _fraction_ of the energy I'd needed before. I climbed until burning muscles drove me to start back down, staring up at the wall I'd just climbed. Why had that been so much easier?

I wanted to slap my forehead in consternation. Of course it was easier. The bulkhead was steel, a ferrous metal. Sometimes, I felt like an idiot. Clearly, I was able to climb a wall with that much metal present much easier. Even better, it had been almost like climbing a ladder, as the handholds were so much more secure. As opposed to a house where I had to go so much slower with all of my weight hanging from the contact points of my hands and knees. It was a good thing to know. I wondered how it would feel to climb bigger buildings? Maybe not so bad if they had steel beams and rebar used in the construction. I dismissed the thought as it was time to move on.

I tested my ability to lift metal and was extremely satisfied as I moved what I tentatively estimated to be at least three tons of scrap iron and steel. I had subtly tried to pick up a parked car earlier this week while walking around, but that had been a disaster as I had completely destroyed the electrical system even before lifting it. I had literally felt the electrical system practically disintegrating as I'd ratcheted up my power to move it. Cars might be very resistant to electrical shocks because of their rubber tires, but those didn't seem to work well against my powers. Maybe it was because the current was flowing back into me, providing a complete circuit. Regardless, I wouldn't be doing that again.

Of course, it didn't help that there was such a visible discharge whenever I used my power this way. While in combat, I was never going to be one of those fly-under-the-radar heroes. I lit the world up around me with surges of highly visible electrical blasts. Only if something was touching my skin did the electrical effects cease to be visible. And even then, if I poured out enough energy, coronal discharges began to appear.

I worked on moving that heavy weight of metal over and over, until I was as sweaty and tired as after a run. Then I worked on picking up as many smaller pieces of metal as I could and moving them in complex and intricate patterns until fatigue and a burgeoning headache forced me to cease.

Wishing I could wipe the sweat out of my eyes, I moved on to my next test. I focused my ability on myself again and cut loose, pouring energy into trying to lift off the ground. Okay, I had not imagined that. I was lighter. Staying focused, I jumped into the air as hard as I could and to my surprise, rose more than six feet before falling back to earth. Even the fall felt slower than normal.

Releasing my power, I sucked huge lungfuls of air as sweat poured off my face and soaked my clothes. Great, I thought. Now I was going to have to ride the bus back all sweaty and stinky. Shaking off the dismay, I focused on the positive.

I had lightened myself significantly. There was not a doubt in my mind that I would be able to fly whenever I finished my armor if not before. I had even started taking iron supplements to increase the amount of the element present in my body, although I was being careful not to poison myself by overdosing. Although, with my control over iron through my electromagnetism, I was wondering if that was possible. And if that had anything to do with my cravings for salt.

I finished off my test slash workout by using my power to project electrical energy. I packed up and found the cargo hold of the ship, a space more than four hundred feet long. Setting down my back pack, I settled in for an extended session of blasting.

Taking a deep breath, I extended my hand and poured out electricity in the form of coruscating streamers of energy. They clearly fell far short of the far end of the hold, but crossed between a third and a half of the distance involved. I smiled as I was actually extremely happy. That was way more range that I had imagined I would have.

Next I tested my accuracy over longer distances, losing the smile as I saw what I had suspected would happen. The electrical blasts tended to spread out over longer distances becoming almost area effect in nature. So there wouldn't be any long distance tasering of a villain who was holding someone hostage. Not unless I wanted to taser them both. And a half dozen of their friends. Which might not be such a bad thing, although I didn't know how the hero community would view such a tactic. Probably not favorably, I decided.

Still, it would let me take down large gangs of normal people at a respectable distance. Gangs being the operative word here. With the ABB, the Merchants, and Empire 88 all operating here in Brockton Bay, taking out groups of gang members would be important. I briefly considered each of the gangs that I had been learning about during my research sessions after school.

ABB, or the Azn Bad Boys, was an all Asian gang led by a particularly nasty cape named Lung, who had the singularly scary ability to continually grow stronger the longer the fight went. He had been known to take down entire Protectorate teams by himself. I know he had a couple of other capes in his group, like Oni Lee, a teleporter who left short-lived copies of himself behind that disappeared into a burst of ash after a certain amount of time, and Bakuda, a tinker-type, who specialized in making bombs. All in all, a nasty group, although Lung, alone, was like having an entire team of capes around.

Then there were the Merchants, a gang of bums, addicts, drunks, and other dregs of Brockton Bay society. They were the most numerous gang, but also the weakest. They were led by Skidmark, a cape with the power to create a layer of effect on flat surfaces that create a push towards one direction and corresponding resistance towards the other. Another cape that was a member was Skidmark's girlfriend, Squealer, a tinker-type able to modify vehicles.

That left Empire 88, who name was drawn from the initials of Heil Hitler, HH. H just happening to be the eighth letter in the alphabet, therefore 88. They certainly lived up to their name and recruited racists and white supremacists from all over the country, both powered and unpowered. They had the most powerful group of capes in the city, even stronger than the local Protectorate, led by Kaiser. Kaiser had the ability to form and manipulate steel, creating dozens of different shapes with it, although a lot of them resembled blades. That was likely a personal fetish, though.

I had a long way to go before I could take on any of these guys, even the Merchants. I sighed as I hefted my backpack, and started looking for several smaller pieces of plate steel I could stuff inside for my use later. It was time to leave, plus I was getting hungry.

~~~Railgun~~~

I went in the backdoor avoiding the broken step on our front porch. I grabbed a shower after I put my backpack away. Afterward I started making lunch. Which was when my dad came in.

Dad's soft, brown eyes seemed to examine me minutely even as he greeted me, "Hey, kiddo."

It was his eyes that I had inherited, although mine looked a lot bigger in my thin face. "Hi, Dad."

He seemed to swallow, then walked over and gave me a hug. I hugged him back, then released him after a moment.

Almost casually, Dad asked, "How did you sleep?"

It looked like I was in for a game of Twenty Questions, but I knew it was concern, not nosiness that drove him. In an effort to head this off, I answered more than just his question. "I slept fine, dad. I _am_ fine. I'm not having nightmares that often anymore. And with no more bullying at school, even that's tolerable. Are you hungry? I was just going to heat up some lasagna."

Dad's tired, intelligent eyes had a knowing look in them as he gazed back at me. He seemed to realize the futility of pushing me, though, and merely said, "I'd love some lasagna. Might as well heat up the whole box."

I nodded, putting it all in and turning on the oven. "Want to watch a movie later? We could rent one of those Earth Aleph movies that we haven't seen before."

A smile creased the lines of his mouth and he nodded. "Sure thing. So what did you spend your morning doing after your run? I heard you showering again." 

"I was just over on the Boardwalk window shopping. I got splashed by a car on the way back so I needed another shower." I hated how easily I lied to him, although by his expression, Dad believed me.

Dad nodded at that. "Don't forget to put your clothes into the wash before the movie. You don't want any stains to set."

I forced myself to smile. "I won't."

His return smile was genuine. "So what movie did you want to watch? I'm leaning towards _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_..."

~~~Railgun~~~


	3. Arc 1: Loading—102 Interlude a

**Arc 1: Loading—Interlude a**

**AN:** I am finding writing Emily Piggot to be quite the challenge. If anyone sees anything that looks too OOC, please let me know in a review or a PM. Thanks.

~~~Railgun~~~

On the bad days, Emily Piggot sometimes wondered if being the director of the Parahuman Response Team here in Brockton Bay was worth it. She didn't feel that way on the good days, of course. On the good days, she felt she was making a difference. That humanity was just a little bit safer from the threat of Endbringers and the Parahumans themselves. That discipline and hard work could overcome anything, even the monsters out there that she had seen with her own eyes. Unfortunately, today was not a good day. Instead, today was a _really_ bad day.

They had finally received the official report of the Sophia Hess aka Shadowstalker Investigation. It was bad in so many different ways. A member of the Wards had bullied and terrorized a classmate to the point she could have potentially caused the young girl's death. Bullying that had been consistently happening for a year and a half. In the latest case, only good brakes and better reflexes by the driver of the car that had just missed Taylor Hebert had saved her life. Unfortunately, many of the following drivers lacked Mr O'Neill's reflexes and had crashed, causing dozens of injuries and a large amount of property damage.

It had also led to a police investigation that, because of the amount of media coverage, could not be squashed. Emily cursed slow news days. It was such a day that had led to a tidbit about a teen being bullied becoming a lead story. It had burst across the airwaves, interrupting regularly scheduled programming as it captured the sympathies of the entire city. And Emily had been left holding a phone with the police commissioner on the other end of the line, completely unable to force him to act.

So, instead of a blackout of the story followed up by Hess' probation being overturned and her being sent to a Parahuman Juvenile Facility to serve out the rest of her sentence, Emily had had to work behind the scenes. Oh, Hess' fate hadn't been any different in this new reality, just faster, as she'd been immediately detained pending the outcome of the investigation. But Emily had needed a way to mitigate the fall out from the various parties involved.

So Panacea had just happened to visit the hospital where those injured in the accidents had gone, healing everyone involved. And the PRT had quietly taken care of vehicle repairs for all of those involved with complimentary rental cars handed out in the meantime. And Daniel Hebert had received a much larger settlement from the school than even he had expected, that would end up coming out of her discretionary budget for this year.

The money wasted on this incident hurt. It meant fewer officers on the street, and those that were, being less well-equipped. The public would thereby be a little less safe. The other ramifications hurt as well. Such as her budget for the year being examined under a microscope and losing some amount of funding as a less-than-subtle punishment. Then there was the possibility of investigations of herself, Armsmaster, and Aegis as to their knowledge of, and level of culpability for, Hess' fuck up.

It meant that every single person in the PRT who learned about Hess would be just that little bit less trusting of capes in a time when they were an absolute necessity for the survival of the human race. After all, most them were parents, too. While Emily didn't think this one incident would cause the tide to turn, she didn't really know one way or the other. There were whole teams of Thinkers in the Protectorate whose sole job was to watch and contemplate for when a tipping point of public opinion would be reached, doing everything possible in the meantime to prevent it from happening.

At least the knowledge that Sophia Hess was a Ward was being suppressed. It hadn't taken much arm bending for the police to allow them to deal with Hess in house. Harder had been dealing with Emma Barnes and her scum-sucking father who had held the PRT hostage for the tuition for Emma to attend a prestigious private school. Alan Barnes had even tried to have them pressure the police to drop all of the charges against his daughter, but Emily had countered with the not-so-subtle threat of naming him as someone who was attempting to out a cape, something that tended to draw the ire of heroes and villains alike. And while heroes would likely stick to lawful means of addressing something of this nature, villains were likely to blow up your house with you and your family in it.

The only good thing to come out of this fiasco was that a threat to the chemistry of the Wards had been neutralized. It was only after the investigation began that Emily understood just how much the girl's own teammates disliked Shadowstalker. Actually, dislike wasn't nearly a strong enough term, as even Vista, who Emily considered a sweet, sweet girl, had hammered Shadowstalker's reputation flat in interviews, her disgust clearly visible on the video recordings.

Emily's thoughts were interrupted by her door opening and a figure entering. With suppressed hostility, she demanded, "In the future, please knock before entering."

Armsmaster, the person who had just walked into her office, had the grace to look at least slightly abashed. Still, there was no trace of apology in his tone as he said, "I'm here to talk about Hess."

Emily gave no outward indication of how much she wanted to throttle Armsmaster as he appeared ready to revisit a decision that had already been made days before. "I don't see the point, Armsmaster. You were there for most of the interviews. You've seen the final report. Not only is Shadowstalker dangerously unstable, but she's an actual detriment to the cohesion of our Ward Team. We can't-"

Armsmaster declared flatly, "She's another cape that could absorb some of the damage from an Endbringer attack, potentially leaving a more important hero able to make a more effective blow-"

"Enough." Emily leveled a glare on the arrogant man across the table from her. "There's nothing to stop her from joining in fights against Endbringers on a case by case basis while serving her time. You're free to try to persuade her. What you will not do is promise her any kind of leniency regarding her time or the conditions in which she serves it in. She has done the crime, now she needs to accept responsibility for her actions. Or she will never have a chance to change for the better, and we'll have another villain out there."

Armsmaster's eyes glittered. "If she turns to villainy, it will be because of your actions."

Emily barely kept from yawning, more a function of exhaustion than boredom, but didn't think she hid her feelings for the subject of the conversation as well as she would have liked, based upon Armsmaster's expression. It was time to end this farce. "If you have nothing else, I _am_ very busy today."

Without another word, Armsmaster left. Emily stared at his retreating figure, fighting back her anger. There was one other reason that she wasn't going to allow Sophia Hess to dodge her punishment. Useful or not, reviled by her teammates or not, what she had done to Taylor Hebert was vile and disgusting and Emily would not allow it to stand. Even if it had been done by a normal person, she would have pursued them to the full extent of the law. That it was done by a cape only made it worse.

In Emily Piggot's eyes, capes should be held to a higher standard that the ordinary people around them. They had been gifted or cursed, depending on who you talked to, with great power. And with that power came a responsibility to use it for the good of all. Because of that power, which could often kill at a touch, they shouldn't be given the benefit of the doubt when they made mistakes. Instead, they needed to be dealt with fairly, but also sternly. Maybe if they did that, there would be a few less human monsters walking around out there. Maybe.

In the meantime, she'd needed to have someone head over to Winslow and emphasize what would happen if any of those NDA's were violated. Plus, it wouldn't be a bad idea to remove the Hebert girl completely from the environment. She'd already applied to Arcadia. Moving her there would make sure she didn't have an opportunity to ask questions of staff. Emily decided that between those two measures she shouldn't have to worry about anything becoming public and embarrassing the PRT or Protectorate. After all, dealing with these matter was all in the details.

~~~Railgun~~~


	4. Arc 1: Loading—103

**Arc 1: Loading—1.03**

I quickly climbed down into the interior of the second derelict ship which I had made my 'official' hide out. I had cordoned off a room just off the main hold that held my workshop. I had made it as secure as humanly possible using my power. I had reinforced the metal of the walls, roof, and floor, and the metal was now ridiculously tough, making it virtually impregnable. It was a great place to keep my armor and other gear while I was working on it, as well as anything else related to my new future as a cape. Even better, the nearby main hold was great for working on my power as it was as private a place as I was likely to find.

I had now been running, doing calisthenics, and free climbing with my power for just over six weeks now and I could feel the difference in my wind and general level of fitness. No more noodle arms and legs after a work out these days. Instead, I felt tired, but good, and my general energy level had been steadily rising. My slight paunch had flattened out, and when I flexed my arm, there was a visible bicep there. Not large, but very firm. And my triceps had the same firmness, no longer swinging when I moved my arm. My legs were still far too thin, but they, too, were getting stronger the more I exercised. Even better, my mood also seemed to rise with my increasing level of fitness, which was a good thing as I'd had to deal with another short bout of bullying recently.

Sarah Mitchells was a a popular and pretty junior who had never really followed along with my trio of tormentors. Instead, she'd stayed aloof, avoiding becoming involved. Not that she hadn't laughed when Emma had dumped most of a Red Slurpee all over me, as well as other times, but she personally was never involved in bullying me.

Until a couple of weeks ago, that is. Suddenly, Sarah was the one bumping into me in the halls and spreading rumors about me. I hadn't expected it, and the familiar tightening sensation in my stomach as school started to become miserable again, really sucked. Still, it hadn't yet reached even an iota of what I'd seen with Emma and Sophia, when she was caught red-handed verbally abusing me.

Surprisingly, it had been Mr Gladly, of all people, who had stopped Sarah one day when she was taunting me in the hallway, while I kept my head down, trying not to make it worse. He'd stepped between us and calmly asked her to explain her remarks. I had stood there, stunned, as Sarah had stammered out a terrible lie about a little friendly teasing between friends. Mr Gladly had listened to her explanation, then had flatly told her no more teasing or she could talk about it to Principal Blackwell with him as a witness.

I hadn't been the only one surprised that day. I had seen the faces of my classmates and Mr Gladly's intervention had been the last thing any of them expected. It had virtually disarmed Sarah, limiting her to gossiping with her friends and spreading rumors about me, but none of them to my face or anywhere a teacher could overhear. And it had made me think. Why had the teachers turned a blind eye to Emma, Sophia, and Madison's bullying, but not to Sarah's? What was so different about the two situations?

I had come up with a few explanations. The most reasonable being that, after the settlement with my dad, the last thing the school administration wanted was for it to happen again. So they had informed the teachers to be on the look out for it. Which made sense in a self-centered kind of way as it was driven more by self-interest than a desire to do the right thing. But somehow, it rang hollow. I wasn't sure why, just that it did. I suspected I was going to have to ask Mr Gladly directly if I wanted an explanation.

I shook off the dark thoughts and focused on something positive. My future status as a superhero for example. I had made significant progress on the costume that I would be wearing when I made my debut. As I climbed down into what was swiftly becoming my home away from home, I looked forward to working on my costume more today after I worked on my ability.

Setting my bag on the floor, I walked over the stands that held my armor, each piece spread out. So far, the completed pieces consisted of the face mask and the matching back half that together made a helmet, a gorget, a breastplate and corresponding back piece, pauldrons, vambraces, rerebraces, and a tasset.

It had been surprisingly difficult making the armor. But, then again, I should have known it would be. As it turned out, I knew nothing about the actual mechanics of how a suit of armor was made and fit together. Fortunately, I was a quick learner. I had, for example, rapidly figured out how badly I'd messed up making my face mask. While it would float on what was essentially a cushion of electromagnetic force above my skin, it still needed to be fastened to the other pieces of my armor to make it more secure. I had not allowed for that. In the end, it had actually been easier to make another face mask the right way, than to adjust the one I'd already made. The metal, once I had shaped it with my power, was _that_ tough.

I had also not allowed for any kind of eye protection, such as lenses, to keep my eyes safe in a fight. I had considered ordinary glass or possibly plastic lenses, but neither had seemed strong enough. Instead, I had experimented with making my own from glass marbles and powdered iron, using my power to melt the glass before adding iron powder to the molten mass. I'd had to repeat the experiment six times to get the mixture right so that it was clear enough to see through. In the end, I had not liked the lack of visibility, so I had decided on a different look entirely after testing the glass and finding out just how durable the addition of the iron made it.

After getting rid of the features, I made the front of the mask a single visor of ironglass that was vertically flat and horizontally curved, running from ear to ear. At its widest, along the bridge of my nose, it was four inches tall, while tapering up to just one inch by the time it reached my ears. With the addition an ultrathin metal coating, I eventually managed to make the glass mirrored so I could look out, but no one could see me. It allowed a fantastic amount of visibility versus just having lenses for my eyes and blended seamlessly into the surface of the mask, which was now much flatter and more starkly modern looking. The ironglass was only the slightest bit less strong than the armor around it, so I wouldn't have to worry about anything getting into my eyes. I had also solved the connection problem for the two pieces of the helm and used it for the rest of the armor.

The connections for the helm and the rest of new pieces I'd made now had two things going for them. They attached together with metal pins, whose heads fit into keyhole slots, fastening them together securely. Just as important, they could be removed without using my power, a solution to a just-in-case scenario where I was too weak to use my powers to remove my armor (or unconscious, which I did not like to think about). I wasn't one hundred percent sure if I would have the physical strength to remove them in that case, but I was getting stronger every day. If it turned out I didn't, I could always get someone to help me take it off.

Regardless, I had made some seriously cool armor, one piece at a time. The breastplate was exactly as it sounded, a solid plate of steel a ranging from a quarter inch to a half inch thick that was ridiculously tough, as was the corresponding back piece, which should provide my body with protection from most threats. I had avoided giving myself any female attributes since I had gotten rid of them on the mask. So instead, I had a thicker line in the center of the breastplate so as to aid shedding force from projectiles or explosives to either side. .

I looked at the stand with the next piece. The gorget was a rounded piece of steel that transitioned from the helmet to the breastplate to the pauldrons. It protected the neck and kept someone from cutting or stabbing your throat. The one I'd made actually worked very well, and allowed a range of motion that I hadn't believed at first. However, as I saw just how perfectly fitted my armor was, I began to understand why I was able to move as well as I did in it.

The pauldrons had been one of the hardest things I had made yet, as they needed to be able to protect my shoulders while still allowing me as full a range of motion as possible. But I had eventually figured it out, using books I checked out of the library as a reference.

From there, the vambraces and rerebraces hadn't been that bad. They protected the lower and upper arms respectively. Mine had a cool modern look of sharp angles, with lots of slots for metal rounds I could fire as well as holding a blade on one vambrace and a metal baton on each vambrace for use in close quarters combat.

The tasset was almost like a short metal skirt that sat just beneath the breastplate and above the legs. Mine had a sharp geometric shape to it that didn't look in the least medieval with the sides slightly longer than the front so as to give my legs greater range of forward motion. Then again, none of the armor I had made appeared medieval, having a modern appearance. And it was all going to be a glossy back in color.

I had experimented with several different paints and had settled on one with a strong metallic base, which with my power, I could layer on almost like a powdercoat. Except this 'powdercoat' was almost as tough as the armor itself and I couldn't even scratch it.

So far I had only painted and cured the two pieces of the helmet, which I looked over before putting them on. The resulting helmet literally gleamed in the light from the overhead lights that were on courtesy of my ability as I used almost a broadcast version of it to power the lights. I could even see clearly through the helm's visor. At least I could once I carefully focused on my eyes and used my power to sharpen my vision. It was one of the newest and coolest things I had learned how to do.

Changing my eyesight was part and parcel of something that I had finally figured out about myself. It went all the way back to when I first started experimenting with my power. At the time, I had wondered why I felt better after absorbing a large amount of electric current, refreshed as if after nap. It had taken some time and some oddball experiments, but eventually I figured out that while I could sense the bio-electric fields of other people, I could manipulate mine to a certain degree. During one of the times I was doing so, after a few hours and an impending headache, I had decided on a pick-me-up. I had gone ahead and almost absently stuck my finger into my lamp's socket, and been shocked by the change I could feel in my own bio-electric field.

After a few more experiments, I had figured out that only a small amount of current was affecting me in this way, but it was enough to give me a slight 'high.' I also had a greater sensitivity to my own bio-electric field during and after using the current. It had been during one of these sessions that I had taken off my glasses, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I had been squinting at the clock on the wall when it had suddenly become crystal clear before blurring out again.

I had been completely shocked and tried again and again to repeat the phenomenon. It had taken dozens of tries, but I was finally able to repeat it. It had turned out I was instinctively compensating with my power for my poor vision. Now, after working on this skill relentlessly for the past two weeks, I was pretty much able to maintain it consistently. I had even gotten a pair of glasses with plain lenses so I could keep pushing myself even at school and in front of my dad with no one getting suspicious. I still carried my regular glasses, but only as a back up. Eventually, I figured I would just get rid of the glasses altogether and pretend to have gotten contacts.

The clear vision was simply wonderful, However, it was just one of the benefits I was hoping to get from being able to manipulate my bio-electric field, assuming it even had anything to do with it. I was getting bogged down in the reading as this was such a complex subject. I had only begun to scratch the surface. I shook my head, focusing on the here and now and got back to work.

With my helmet now on, I started working on the different applications of my ability. I was pleased to see that I was up to five shots a minute when firing metal discs, using my 'railgun' ability. I had started out only able to do three and had already improved substantially. Eventually, I wanted to be able to work up to ten shots per minute or even more. As the last splash started to subside, I moved on to electrostatic wall climbing.

I was getting so much better at this as I practiced, growing stronger by the day. At the end of my session, I had a smile on my face despite the sweat dripping off me. Everything was improving. I was now able to lift six tons of metal and manipulate several hundred individual smaller pieces, moving them in extremely intricate patterns as my control continued to improve. My electrical blasts were now powerful enough to melt steel. But I still couldn't fly.

Shaking my head, I finally gave up. I hadn't made any significant progress recently in using my power to fly and it irked me. At best, I had reduced my weight by just over half, and that was after taking iron supplements. While I wasn't giving up just yet, I was starting to doubt that I would succeed in actually flying just using my power. At best, I might end up being able to hover or slow a fall. It wasn't as if I needed to fly like that, as I would be able to lift the entire suit with myself in it, a version of flight. It was something I had already succeeded with just wearing the upper half of my armor. I had just wanted to be able to do it without armor, to feel the wind in my hair and on my face. I shook off the childish fantasy and got to work on the gauntlets of my armor. I still had so much to do.

~~~Railgun~~~

Today I was sitting in the library doing research. I had just finished up the last of the research on how to finish up all of the leg pieces for my armor and was now doing some fun research. I had once again come back to the idea of flying with the wind in my face and was pretty sure I had figured out a way.

It had spun out of an existing idea. That idea was of making the metal mesh that protected the spots on my body there the joins of the plate armor met. Touching the flexible wire mesh felt almost like touching thick, stiff cloth. The mesh would obviously not be made into clothing, but a much finer mesh could.

So here I was looking up ways to make mesh clothing that I could both wear and use to lift myself for flight. I had already looked up the stuff available online and to say it wasn't something I'd wear did not come nearly close enough in describing the skimpy dresses and haltertops that were available. But there was nothing stopping me from making my own. It was just figuring out how, then doing the work, which should also give me a lot of practice on fine control of my power.

It turned out it wasn't all that hard. Actually, it was surprisingly easy. All it took was time, as the final product was almost like a very fine chain mail made up of hundreds of thousands of tiny interlocking pieces of metal. But I worked on it even when home, allowing my power to cut and assemble the micropieces. It even turned out that they could be colored just as my armor was, just using a much thinner coating.

I had actually produced some decent looking material, when I ran into the newest problems with making clothing. I realized that I did not know anything about making clothes, shirts, pants, and more, as well as possessing no real desire to learn. The second issue I had was that the material, while thin and airy compared to my armor was still ridiculously tough compared to anything else out there. It could easily stop a bullet and could not be cut by something as simple as a pair of scissors.

I could cut it, using my power, but unless I wanted to be outed as a cape, I couldn't just hire a seamstress to make me clothing from it. I was going to have to think a lot more on the subject before I came up with a solution.

~~~Railgun~~~

I finished my computer assignment in Mrs Knott's class and emailed it to her to grade. Then I set out to do a little research on Parahumans dot net. I was really only killing time until Mr Gladly's class. I had decided that today was the day I confronted him regarding his about face on the bullying. While in some ways I was dreading the answer, I felt like I really needed to know.

More importantly, it was my last day at Winslow High as my request to transfer to Arcadia had finally come through and I was starting there tomorrow. Principal Blackwell had made sure to let me know that she had found a way to make it happen and that I should be suitable grateful. I had managed to say thanks while gritting my teeth. Still, it was a new start and I was actually looking forward to school tomorrow.

All too soon, the class was over and I headed to World Issues. I sat in my usual seat, now that I didn't have to worry about the presence of anything from glue to orange juice anymore and waited more or less patiently for the class to finish. Of course it dragged along forever as today was a day for discussion groups, and my misfit one was a complete waste of time.

When the bell finally rang, I stifled a sigh of relief and lingered as the last of my classmates filed out the door. Mr Gladly had an almost apprehensive look on his face as he noticed me. After a moment, when I didn't leave, he asked, "Taylor, is there something I can do for you?"

I took a deep breath, ignoring the sick feeling in my stomach. "I wanted to talk with you. About what happened a few weeks ago. With Sarah Mitchell." There. I'd said it. Now I waited for his response.

He didn't look surprised and his questions seemed more rote than genuine. "Why? Did something happen? Is she bullying you again?"

I shook my head. "_No._ No. It's nothing like that. I just wanted to know..."

Mr Gladly's face wore an expression of dread, as if he were afraid of me even as he asked, "Know what?"

With a rush, I got out, "Why you never helped me before with any of the bullying that Sophia, Emma, or Madison did?"

His eyes slid off of mine as he looked down and away to his left. He hedged, "I don't know what you mean, Taylor. I encouraged you to come with me to the Principal Blackwell, but you refused."

With more courage than I thought I possessed, I stated, "Mr Gladly, you are not a stupid man. You know what I mean. You saw them do far, far worse to me than what Sarah did. So did other teachers. And none of you ever did anything to stop them. I just want to know why. Please tell me."

Mr Gladly wearily perched on the corner of his desk, shoulders slumping. "Taylor, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that."

In a flat tone, I responded, "You mean you won't."

His eyes met mine finally. There was a look of such shame in them that I wanted to turn away. "No, I mean I can't tell you. I can't talk about it. None of us can. We all signed an- look, I could get in trouble just talking to you. Please leave this alone for both our sakes. You got your transfer, after all."

I stood there, frozen, my mind working furiously. What was he talking about? What had he signed? A nondisclosure agreement or something else? If it was the former, the only thing he would need to fear for prosecution was the government. Who else could scare him? So it almost had to be them in some fashion. Was it the FBI? US Marshalls? Was Sophia or one of the others in witness protection? It seemed unlikely. Was it...

Like lightning, a thought hit me. The Protectorate and the PRT. Teachers wouldn't need to know about someone in witness protection, but if a teenage cape, a member of the Wards, was going here, they would need to be told to be understanding of their extra duties. To give them the benefit of the doubt. To let them slide if they did something wrong...

I could feel bile rising in my throat as my mind grasped the ramifications of someone like Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, or Madison Clements being considered a hero and a member of the Wards. Bit by bit, I could feel numbness spreading through me as my dream was ground away by this new, brutal reality. Bitterly, I realized that even after all of this time I wasn't free of them. They were still finding new ways to hurt me even when they were no longer here. To take away the things I loved, leaving me with ashes.

"Taylor, are you okay?"

I heard the concern in Mr Gladly's voice and wanted to scream at him. I wanted to use my ability and burn him down where he stood for his part in what had happened. Instead, I held it in. I counted to ten, then to ten again as I struggled to regain my composure. But there seemed to be no number that could contain it.

"Taylor?"

I could feel tears starting to sting my eyes and blinked furiously. I would not give them the satisfaction of making me cry. Never again. I placed the words like armor across my heart. Never again. I would die first.

As if from a great distance, I heard the worry in Mr Gladly's voice. "Taylor! Are you all right?"

Suddenly, I was aware of the flickering light from overhead. An icy feeling washed over me as I realized I could be outed. If I lost control here, they would know I was a cape. And if I were revealed, I could be pressured to join the Wards. I took an iron grip on my emotions and managed a reply, "I'm fine."

Mr Gladly stood, almost wringing his hands as he stared at me. The lights had finally settled down. Glancing upward, he offered a weak joke, "Darn power company. If that had kept up, we'd need to be breaking out sticks for people to bite down on to keep the convulsions from breaking their teeth."

Unfortunately, I couldn't even offer him a weak smile in return. Instead I stood there impassively until he finally asked, "Was there anything else, Taylor?"

I shook my head and shouldered my pack. I started out the door, then paused. I half turned back towards him. "Thanks, Mr Gladly. For talking to me."

He hesitated a second. "I am truly sorry, Taylor."

Wordlessly, I turned back around and left, feeling his sad eyes following me until I was out of sight.

~~~Railgun~~~


	5. Arc 1: Loading—104

**Arc 1: Loading—1.04**

It was my first day at Arcadia High and I was justifiably nervous. I was going to be in new classes with new people. People who didn't know about my social isolation at Winslow. Who didn't know me, Taylor Hebert. It was a new start and I, for once, had hope of making friends and improving my life.

The only downside to attending Arcadia was that members of the Wards attended as well. I did not fool myself into thinking I was smart and perceptive enough to know who was and who wasn't a Ward in their civilian disguise. The last thing I wanted to do was make friends with someone like that, both because I didn't want to jeopardize my secret identity and because of what had happened with Mr Gladly and the theory I had come up with.

I had made a decision after going out last night and working on my costume. A decision that I was not going to let my feelings for the PRT and the Protectorate destroy my new start and my life going forward by dragging my perception through a poisonous filter of hate and fear. I might not like what I believed that they had done, but I needed to be strong enough not to allow others to affect me in that way. If I did allow them to affect me, to fill me with dark emotions and even darker fears, I would have no one to blame but myself when things self-destructed.

No, I would give this new start every chance to make me happy. I owed myself that, no matter how it came about. I was not the fastidious nun who turned away drug money as a donation because there was blood on it. No, I would take the bloody money and bleach it by using it to make the world a better place. And maybe destroying its source so there wouldn't be anymore.

I shook off my fanciful thoughts as I walked down the halls of Arcadia. Instead, I spent some time admiring my new school. There wasn't a trace of gang graffiti here on any of the new looking plaster and stone walls. While it would get painted over eventually, there was always something from either the ABB, Empire 88, or the Merchants on the hallway walls of Winslow High. Arcadia looked and felt so much cleaner. It was nicer in so many ways.

One example was my first class. I was again taking Computer One, the equivalent to Mrs Knott's class. Here at Arcadia, instead of using a terminal in class, we were all issued top-of-the-line laptops, which we were allowed to take home to work on our projects there. I was fortunate that I had been doing 'advanced' work in that class because their regularly assigned work was the equivalent to what I had been doing at Winslow High. At least I wasn't behind and could even work on stuff at home, connecting to the school server through a built in wireless aircard that would reach the school from all over the city.

I was smiling as I left my first class. A smile that continued even when I found out I was behind in Chemistry. It wasn't anything I would easily be able to make up, especially since no one here was destroying my books and homework on a regular basis. Parahuman Affairs was another interesting class I was taking and a lot better than its equivalent at Winslow, World Issues. For one thing, it was structured with none of the social aspect of Mr Gladly's class. For another, it actually talked about things like the moral issues of possessing powers and what the individual owed society and vice a versa.

I had enjoyed the rousing class discussion, even if I hadn't really participated. I told myself that it was because I was still getting acclimated, but the truth was I wasn't sure what the individual person who gained powers owed to society other than to be a law abiding citizen. Especially, when part of society was a group that lied and abused its power. Of course, I couldn't say that. With the overwhelming majority opinion coming down that if you had powers you should join the Protectorate and help save the world, I wasn't going to put myself in opposition my first day.

No, better to quietly fit in and find a place to eat my lunch, I thought, as I searched for an unoccupied table in the busy cafeteria. I was balancing my tray in one hand, filled with food that for once actually appeared edible, with my drink in the other when I finally spotted a table. I reached it just as someone else was sitting down and hesitated, not wanting to be intrusive or to stand out.

The other, a boy with short, light brown hair framing a long face, smiled at me. Looking at me with intelligent eyes, he said, "Go ahead and sit down. I won't bite." He spoke with confidence, despite appearing a little younger than me, and I couldn't help contrasting the two of us.

I almost fled in a panic, both because of his attitude and because he made me feel a little weird. There was something about him... But this was a new start, so taking a deep breath, I went ahead and sat down. Unfortunately, I didn't seem able to talk, which made me start to panic more. Luckily, my table companion rescued me.

He held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Chris. What's your name?"

I shook his hand briefly, then stopped, my hand instinctively reaching up to push up glasses that I no longer wore. Thank God using my power was becoming pretty much automatic. I managed to get out, "I'm Taylor. I'm new here."

Chris, who had been taking a bite of what appeared to be a passable meatloaf, stopped midway, and asked, "Seriously? From where?"

The intensity of his gaze made me want to hide, but I answered anyway. "W-winslow High."

I fiddled with my fork while he whistled silently, his gaze speculative. "Is it as bad as everyone says?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. How bad does everyone say it is?" I took a bite of the same meatloaf. It was more than passable.

Chris shrugged in return. "Gangs. Graffiti. Fights. Bullying. All the things Arcadia High parents don't want their kids to have to deal with."

I could feel my appetite diminish. I made myself finish chewing my own bite of meatloaf before answering, "It wasn't that bad. The gangs pretty much left you alone if you weren't in an opposing gang. Not that much fighting. There was a fair bit of graffiti. Seemed they never quite caught up with covering it."

From his sharp look, I knew that Chris had caught my lack of explanation about the bullying part of his statement. He appeared to be okay with leaving it alone, though, and the rest of our lunch went okay. We were putting our trays up when another boy walked up, tall and thin with short curly hair. I blinked rapidly as the odd feeling increased. He immediately spoke to Chris.

"Chris, I need to talk to you. Have you heard the latest from Carlos? He said-"

Chris interrupted him. "Dennis, this is Taylor. She's new to Arcadia. Just transferred in from Winslow."

Dennis spared me one look and a quick, "Nice to meet you. Can you give Chris and I a minute, please?"

I quickly nodded and started to walk off, only to have Chris grab my arm. "Taylor, you want to grab something after school? I know a pretty good place in walking distance that makes a great burger, fries, and shakes?"

Was he asking me out? No, it was probably just a friends thing. Taking a deep breath and repeating my mantra of new start over and over, I nodded and said, "Okay. I'll see you after school." Maybe then, I could figure out the weird vibe I was getting from him.

Chris headed off with a wave. "Great! Dennis, now what was so important that it couldn't wait for our next..."

~~~Railgun~~~

The place turned out to be called Fugly Bob's and served a huge burger, great onion rings and fries, and homemade shakes. Chris and I had met out front of the school and walked over together, chatting about nothing much.

Sitting in a booth, he said, "We should get one burger and split it, that way we can get fries _and_ onion rings. Trust me, you'll want to try them both."

I gave the idea serious consideration before finally nodding. "That sounds fine."

Chris gave me an odd look. "Do you always do that?"

My heart stuttered as I wondered what I had done wrong. "Uh, do what?"

Chris shrugged. "That thing you just did where you acted like ordering was something incredibly important. It was like making a decision was life or death." At my stricken look, he rushed to reassure me, "It's not a bad thing. I just don't usually see people our age that serious."

Be strong, I whispered silently. Out loud, I said, "I guess... yes? I mean, that's just how I am."

He smiled in return. "It's cool. Be right back."

Chris put in the food order along with a couple of chocolate shakes. We engaged in small talk while we waited. "So what's your favorite class so far, Taylor?"

I struggled to meet his eyes, but eventually did. He was smiling at me again. So maybe he thought this was a date. It made my heart beat fast and not in a good way. "Well... I like Parahuman Affairs, but they get a little..." I trailed off, having a hard time putting my feelings into words.

"Intense? I know what you mean. I'm taking that, too. I have it after lunch. You'd think people would be all sleepy and disinterested after eating lunch, but nope. Instead, they're all keyed up and passionate. Must be the subject matter. Parahumans and all."

I nodded. "Exactly. So maybe Computer One is my favorite. What's yours?"

"Well, it's not math. I suck at it. Probably English." He sounded glum as he talked.

I was surprised. "Really? You seem like a pretty smart guy."

Chris shrugged. "Maybe. But I've got this weird learning thing when it comes to math. Makes it really hard for me." He looked a little surprised he'd admitted it.

"Dyscalculia?"

His mouth gaped. "How did you know what's its called?"

I shrugged. "My mom used to teach English at the local college and she always made sure I was more than literate. That was before she..." I trailed off, not wanting to talk about my mom's death. I'd felt the pressure of confiding something in return, but now was regretting it. "Anyway, I like English, too."

Fortunately, Chris picked up on my reluctance to further share. He nodded in lieu of replying. An awkward silence fell.

Just then, our food arrived and I was saved from further talking. Chris cut our enormous burger in half while I divvied up the fries and rings. While he went ahead and took a bite, I opened my half of the burger up and liberally salted the patty and lettuce. I could tell that Chris thought the amount I was using was a bit excessive, which was probably only reinforced when I did the same with the fries and rings, after first dousing them with ketchup. He didn't say anything, though, and we ate in silence for a few minutes.

Our mutual silence made the ringing of the bell at the front door surprisingly loud. A moment later, I felt a presence alongside me, as if someone was brushing against me. It made the hairs stand up on my arms. Then someone slid into the booth next to me. "Hey, Chris."

I turned my head to see a younger girl with dark blonde hair sitting next to me wearing an impudent smile. It was weird how intensely I could feel her presence. Focusing my ability, I could see how strong her bio-electric field was. I turned back to see Chris feebly waving, looking tense. "Missy. What are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I'm meeting some of the others here. Mind if I have a fry?" Missy was eying my fries as she asked, Chris having already devoured his.

Chris shrugged. "Those aren't mine. Maybe you should ask Taylor."

Missy smiled at me. "Nice to meet you, Taylor. Can I have a fry?"

I feebly nodded. "Ahh... sure. Go ahead."

Missy enthusiastically grabbed a fry and stuffed it into her mouth. She immediately started coughing and got up out of the booth. She disappeared for a minute, then came back with a glass of water. She took a long drink. Sputtering slightly, she demanded, "What's up with all of the salt? That was terrible!"

I shrugged and ate another fry myself. I didn't see the problem. They tasted fine to me. I ate another as Missy watched me with horrified fascination. I was wondering about something. "How do the two of you know each other? Do you go to Arcadia, Missy?"

Chris gave the girl an odd look as she said, "Not until next year. I don't know Chris from school. He, ah, tutored me before. In English."

It was weird seeing him relax as Missy explained things. I was definitely getting an odd vibe from the two of them. I started as I noticed a group of boys that must have come in when the bell rang earlier were now standing next to our booth. I recognized Dennis, who I'd already met. I didn't know any of the others. I registered a tall Hispanic, an extremely muscular African-American, and lastly, a handsome brunette with incredible eyelashes. They were all staring at me and I was feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Plus, there was something just a bit off about their bio-electric fields. I wasn't sure what it was, but it almost felt like they were rubbing up against me.

"So, Chris, this why you couldn't meet us after school? Got a hot date?" It was Dennis speaking, a smirk on his lips.

I was starting to not like him even as the Hispanic boy said, "Back off, Dennis. Going to introduce us, Chris?"

Chris dutifully made the introductions, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. "Taylor, this is Carlos, Dennis, Teddy, and Dean. Guys, this is Taylor."

I got a chorus of "Nice to meet you's" and responded appropriately. But I was definitely ready to get out of there. I did have other things to do. So when they suggested getting a bigger booth, I made my getaway and headed out after making hasty goodbyes.

I hated leaving Chris with the check, but I was hoping to start on a solution for my metal clothing problem today. I had read up on a rogue Parahuman, Parian, who was able to animate giant structures made of cloth. Supposedly, she was able to do a lot more and I was hoping that she would be able to make clothing for me.

I had my mask and a couple of samples of material with me, about a square yard total. I also was wearing a hoodie. Between the two of them, I hoped it would sufficiently hide my identity. Just before I reached her shop, I stepped into an alley, putting on the mask and raising the hoodie so that it was hard to even tell I was wearing one. Then I stepped through the front door.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but the interior was disappointingly normal. There were a lot of pictures of large animated stuffed animals as well as college banners and mascots. Then I turned around and came face to face with then proprietor.

Parian's costume was a bit odd, consisting of a frock-like dress, a doll's mask, and a wig of golden curls. It didn't go with her darker skin, that showed a probable Middle-Eastern ethnicity. However, I wasn't here to judge.

"Hello, my name is Parian. Can I help you with something?" Parian's voice was pleasant, but again had a hint of the Middle-East in it. She was looking at my mask, just visible beneath my hoodie.

I spread my hands in a reassuring way as I nodded. "I hope so. I know that you can make all of these animated figures, but I was wondering if you were also able to make clothes as well."

Parian stilled. If I didn't know better, I'd have said I shocked her. "Why would you even ask that? What have you heard?"

"Uh, nothing? I'm just trying to get some custom clothing made and I was hoping that even if you didn't know how, you could connect me with someone who did."

Parian relaxed, whatever I'd said to alarm her apparently forgiven. "I can make clothes. What exactly do you need?"

I shrugged off the backpack I was wearing and set in on the counter. Then I took out the smaller bag inside with the samples I'd brought. I dumped them out on the counter where they lay in a shimmer of gold and crimson.

The first sample I had used a gold metal flake paint that gave it a beautiful gleaming appearance. I wasn't sure I'd wear something made from it, but I wanted something flashy to show Parian. The second sample was a glimmering red metallic that shone brightly and was so beautiful that I wanted something made from it, even if again I probably wouldn't wear it.

Parian grabbed the cloth up and immediately began to lay it out and smooth it down. She scolded, "You should never dump metallic cloth out like that. You can bend it and then it will crease and be ruined."

Parian continued to stroke the cloth even after it was smoothed flat. She breathed, "Where did you get this?"

My reply was noncommittal. "I made it."

She gave me a disbelieving glance, so I picked up the red piece, wadded it up to her dismayed cry, then tossed it back to her. Parian smoothed it back, seemingly unable to believe that it was undamaged after that.

"How is it possible that you didn't ruin it?"

I shrugged. "It's really tough. That's part of the problem. I want clothing made from metallic cloth like this, but no regular seamstress can even cut it."

Using a pair of sheers from the table behind her, Parian tried to cut it, but she had no better luck. "Huh. You say you can cut it? Show me."

I used my ability to levitate the piece of gold cloth, the cut it in half. Parian had gone completely still as I worked. She gave me a wary look before asking, "Can you rejoin pieces afterwards, as if you were sewing it up?"

"Sure." I then reattached the cloth, though it was a lot harder than cutting it had been. I tossed the result back to Parian, who examined it carefully.

"Perfect. Well, I can help you, but you are going to have to do all of the work using a pattern I'll provide. I'll measure you and cut out patterns that you'll match with cut out pieces of this cloth. Then I'll show you how to attach them together to make clothes."

Suddenly nervous, I asked, "Is this going to be expensive? I don't have a lot of money right now." Dad hadn't significantly increased my allowance, putting most of the settlement we'd received away for my college fund. It was hard to argue, when he had my well-being in mind. Plus I had several ideas for getting money once I debuted as a cape.

Parian tapped her mask with one index finger in a considering way. "My price is that for every two outfits we make you, we'll make one for me. How does that sound?"

Anything where money didn't exchange hands sounded great to me. I nodded in agreement. "When can we start?"

"When will you have more material made?"

"I have the gold, red, brown, and black already made. About ten yards of each."

"That's enough to start. What all colors can you do?"

I took out a can of paint and showed it to her. "Any color that these come in. I think there about eighty colors. They have a website online or you can buy them in a couple of different paint shops."

Parian took the can from me. "This will work. It's a pleasure doing business with you..."

I supplied my cape name. "Railgun."

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Railgun."

~~~Railgun~~~

Over the next couple of weeks I was incredible busy between the clothing, my training, catching up in school, and working on my armor. Plus I had hung out with Chris a few more times. It was turning out more friends than anything romantic, which I was actually glad about as he didn't exactly bowl me over in that way.

I had seen the group that had shown up at Fugly Bob's around school, minus Missy of course, but hadn't made any real effort to get to know them. They seemed okay, even Dennis, who was more of a smart ass than any kind of real bully. But none of them had shown up again during any of the times that Chris and I had hung out, leading me to wonder if he'd said anything to them.

I had also seen a couple of minor celebrities recently at Arcadia. Amy and Victoria Dallon, Panacea and Glory Girl respectively, had been just walking down the hall, probably going to class. It was a bit surreal to see two members of New Wave in my school, but the rest of the kids around me just took it in stride.

I didn't have any classes with them as they were a year ahead of me, but that was probably for the best. I could imagine meeting them and acting like a complete fan girl in front of them. I'd probably die of embarrassment.

Parian and I had finished several outfits. She had actually talked me into more than the mostly utilitarian clothing that I had originally planned. I had just wanted to be able to fly in my clothing. I hadn't known well designed clothes could make even me look good as it flattered my too slender body. Tomorrow, I was going to wear a pair of metallic black pants in a duller shade with a shimmering crimson top that Parian had persuaded me I would look great in. I was terrified, but at the same time I did wonder what Chris or Dean might think of me in it.

It was nice playing dress up with Parian, but I wouldn't let it distract me from my mission. I had another training session tonight and should finish up my armor as well. I had set April second as a hard date for my debut. It would have been April first, but I didn't want the obvious ramifications of becoming a joke if something went wrong.

~~~Railgun~~~

I scrambled up the side of the ship, climbing effortlessly, a combination of my power and general fitness allowing me to move so much more quickly than before. I had upped my morning run a while ago as soon as I realized that climbing was better at building my body's strength than the general calisthenics had been. I was trying to climb at least thirty minutes a day. I had even done a little climbing in the mornings around abandoned buildings when I was able to ascertain no one was nearby. While harder than the ship, it was not nearly as hard as at my house, as the metal beams within acted to conduct the electromagnetic energy.

Finishing up, I used my power to cool myself off, allowing it to bleed off heat from my body. I had figured out how to do this when I was wondering just how widespread electromagnetic radiation's uses could be. I had at least the gestation of a lot of ideas, but this one was eminently practical. I could keep myself warm in winter through a kind of induction and cool in summer by bleeding off heat through radiation. I liked it as it was practical and solved a potential problem with my armor as I hadn't been sure exactly how I was going to keep cool in a fight. The last thing I wanted was to pass out from heat stroke, a very real possibility when wearing a few hundred pounds of metal on a hot day.

I could even do it while exercising, but actually preferred to break a sweat as it made me feel I was accomplishing something. Finished cooling off, I set out for home, a pleasant warmth suffusing my muscles as I now lightly heated them just enough to stay pliant. Tomorrow was another school day and I was going to be wearing something that just thinking about had me on edge.

~~~Railgun~~~

Well, I had worn it. It being the top that I'd promised Parian I would. Now I was about to die of embarrassment as it seemed the entirety of the student body was talking about me and what I was wearing. It probably was only a fraction of the students doing so, but that was how it felt to me. It wasn't even as if the top was particularly daring. The neckline was discrete and didn't show more than a T-shirt. It did show off a sliver of my stomach, which now was toned and flat from all of the exercise I'd been doing. Still, that wasn't why I was getting so many looks as there were a lot of girls dressed far more daring.

The problem was the color. The bright shimmering crimson hadn't seemed so bad in Parian's shop, surrounded by other equally bright colors. There, it had faded into the whole, no better or worse than the others. When I'd gotten it home, I'd had second thoughts, seeing it in my bedroom. At the brightly lit school, it made me look like a peacock among a flock of lesser birds, and the center of attention. I should have worn the brown or the gray top, I thought as my eyes slid past yet another speculative look, this one belonging to one of the girls in my Parahuman Affairs Class.

At least it was finally lunch time, and I'd have to walk through the entire cafeteria wearing this. I really longed for a jacket at that moment or even my hoodie. But I thought the new Taylor could wear something like this without hiding. At least, that's what I had told myself when getting ready this morning. Now I was rethinking that decision.

I headed to my usual table that I shared with Chris, only to find his friends there as well. I murmured a greeting to them all as I sat across from him, putting my head down and quietly eating my lunch. I kept feeling distracted, though, as if the hairs on my arm were standing up.

"Taylor, you look great in that. You should wear bright colors more often."

Surprisingly, it wasn't Chris who said it, but rather Dean, who gave me a kind smile as I looked up. It looked like Chris agreed, though, as he kept sneaking looks at me from across the table.

"Uhh, thanks. I almost didn't wear it, but I'm trying to be more bold these days." I wasn't sure why I said that, but it might have been the accepting expressions on the faces of the boys around me. Even Dennis had a smile on his face, even if it was paired with an odd expression in his eyes, as if he were seeing me for the first time.

Then I looked up and froze as a certain blonde Parahuman walked up and stood looking down at out table, greeting everyone with a quick, "Hey." A quick glance at her and her companion showed me their bio-electric fields blazing. But then, everyone at the table was like that. It was beyond weird.

Dean spun in place, saying, "Vicky, what are you doing here? I thought you had a project due that you wanted to finish."

Before Victoria Dallon, aka Glory Girl, could get a word out, a voice to her side spoke, "She put it off because she wanted to check out the new girl's outfit."

Victoria shrugged as she stared at me, or more likely, at my top. I was blushing from the hairline to my neckline as everyone eyed my outfit. I shifted uncomfortably as if to keep it from clinging to me so well.

"So sue me. She has on the most interesting thing that I've seen anyone wear to school yet this year." She pointed directly at me as she said it. I could feel my face getting hot as everyone's attention focused n me.

"So, new girl, where did you get that great metallic blouse?"

Flummoxed, I stammered, "I got it through a friend."

Victoria pounced. "A friend made it, or you got it through a friend's contacts?"

Dean intervened at this point. "Taylor, this is Victoria, a tactless girl I know. Victoria, this is Taylor, who is new to Arcadia, so we're all trying to make her feel welcome." He gestured in the general direction of Victoria's sister. "Behind her is Amy. Amy, Taylor. Taylor, Amy."

Pulling up chairs for her and her sister, Victoria grumbled, "Fine." In an overly sweet voice, she said, "Hello, Taylor. It's nice to meet you."

If my face had been hot before, it was incandescent now. I caught myself unconsciously using my powers to cool down and stopped, worried I'd get caught with a Parahuman present. It was enough, however, to help me regain my composure. I managed to get out, "It's nice to meet you, too. And you... ahh... Amy. But I already knew who you both were."

Dennis grinned. "The whole school knows who _she_ is." It was said in a fairly sarcastic tone. His follow up was a lot kinder. "And the wonderful Amy Dallon."

It was Amy's turn to look embarrassed as everyone looked at her. She mumbled, "Thanks, Dennis." In a clearer tone, she said, "It's nice to meet you, Taylor. Welcome to Arcadia."

It seemed that at least one person in this group was as shy as I was. Amy was also the brightest one there, practically alight in my vision. I muttered, "Thanks." I wasn't sure what was more weird, how well everyone got along with two of the most famous Parahumans out there or how they all felt to my senses. I would have thought they would have been at least a little intimidated, but it sure didn't seem that way. And what was that feeling almost touching my skin? I started to rub my arms, but stopped myself.

"Okay, now that the social niceties have been satisfied, where did you get that shirt, Taylor? And those pants, too." Victoria didn't seem like she was going to be distracted from her goal.

I decided to stick to the truth, not wanting to seem like I was hiding something. "I got them from a friend."

Victoria looked faintly annoyed. "What friend?"

My voice was low as I said, "A friend who makes clothes for me sometimes."

It was Chris who chimed in now, "Victoria, maybe she doesn't want to say."

Victoria looked speculative. "Your friend was able to make those? She must know more than just making clothes, because that top is haute couture. It looks like something from one of the big designers. And that material? It's beautiful."

I was blushing again. "Thank you."

"Can I touch it?"

I held out my arm to her and she fingered the material of one of the three quarter length sleeves. A second later, Victoria breathed, "Fantastic. I have to talk to this girl. Are the pants the same?"

I shrugged. "Pretty much. Not quite as soft. They have to be a little more durable." Of course, I was ignoring the fact that both were more than durable, being pretty much bullet proof.

Victoria turned to her sister. "What do you think, Ames? Should I contact Taylor's friend? Wouldn't you just love something like that?"

Amy looked torn. She demurred, "I couldn't wear something like that. It's a little bright."

"I have similar tops in other colors," I offered, then wished I hadn't as Victoria looked even more determined. At least she didn't know it was Parian who had made these for me. I wasn't planning on telling her either. Then I had an idea. "Victoria, I don't think she had anymore fabric like this. Uh, sorry."

Briefly, Victoria looked upset, then gave me a frankly assessing look. "Too bad you're so skinny, Taylor. Otherwise, I could borrow one of your tops to see how it looks on me. Then I could buy it off of you."

Dean spoke then, "Vick, that's uncalled for." He really was a nice guy and seemed ready to defend anyone.

Victoria protested, "I wasn't insulting her. Taylor looks good even if she's skinny. But I would never fit in her clothes. I'm too busty. Am I right?" She stuck out her chest to emphasize her point.

I didn't feel insulted, but again I was the center of attention. Plus, having my chest compared to Victoria's made me feel like a ten year old boy. It was better than if she could wear it and figure out it was bulletproof. Still, I was going to be so glad when lunch was over. "Uh, sure."

"So, did you guys hear that there's going to be a dance in a couple of weeks? Amy and I are going solo, but I hear Brian has a date. Anyone else coupling up?"

As all eyes turned towards me and Chris I decided that I was going to be really happy when lunch was over. Between the conversation and the skin-crawling sensation I was getting, I don't think I'd been that uncomfortable in months.

~~~Railgun~~~

I was working out again, this time at home, trying to increase my ability to see into the electromagnetic spectrum. I was hoping to increase my range of seeing the bio-electric fields of people. That would have all sorts of advantages for scouting out villains, as well as helping to find victims. The only problem was that bio-electric fields were faint and not easily seen at a distance. Well, other than a few of my newer acquaintances. However, I was still able to see everyone in the various homes around me, even through the wooden walls of their houses.

I noticed two fields that seemed to be mingling, which was pretty weird. When I realized what I was seeing, I felt myself blush. There was only one thing that they could be doing, so I quickly turned away in another direction. Now I was staring out towards the front of our house. I started trying to see past the houses across the street and into the next block.

I squinted as hard as I could, but it didn't make any difference. It wasn't having any effect. I blinked, then blinked again as I realized that I was still seeing despite the blinks.

Astonished, I stopped trying to see long distance and focused immediately in front of me. I closed my eyes and experienced darkness. But now that I knew I should be able to see beyond this, I wasn't deterred. Concentrating, I tried to make the darkness lift. But after a couple of minutes, I still did not have any success.

Growing frustrated, I cursed, "Damn it!"

Giving up, I opened my eyes. I was getting a headache. I leaned forward and closed my eyes, rubbing my forehead. I almost opened them back up, but stopped myself. I could see everything. I carefully didn't move. Instead, I tentatively let this new sense roam around.

I could see everything around me in an arc of just over a hundred and eighty degrees. Try as I might, I couldn't make it increase. Maybe my brain just couldn't process more and it was protecting me from some kind of overload. Slowly raising my head, still with my eyes closed, I looked around my room.

I could see it all at a level of detail that freaked me out. I could see textures on everything I looked at. The walls, my comforter, even the small desk in the corner. All of them were littered with tiny imperfections that were visible to me now. I stared at the carpet at my feet, then at the light over my head. It was the most frightening and exhilarating thing I've ever experienced.

I opened my eyes, curious if that would make a difference. It did not. My field of vision remained the same. I considered again the reason why this limitation was there. Maybe it really was some kind of protection, similar to the Manton Effect, designed to keep my safe from experiencing too much of the world around me. I didn't know, but I had to admit, I was getting extremely curious.

Then I blinked and kept on blinking. My vision wasn't going away. I began to tremble as I wondered how I was going to sleep like this. I concentrated until tears formed in the corners of my eyes. It didn't help.

Brushing my teeth, I tried to think of a solution. Maybe if I took a sleeping pill? I decided it was too early to act this irrationally. I was just going to try to sleep. After all, I hadn't been kept awake by seeing bio-electric fields in last few weeks, so why should this be different?

It turned out it wasn't. As soon as I actively tried to sleep with the light off, I could feel everything fade away and I slept.

~~~Railgun~~~


	6. Arc 2: Aiming—201

**Arc 2: Aiming—2.01**

I put my head in my hands. I'd been considering names again. I'd reconsidered using Railgun, both because it gave away one of my deadliest attacks and because, ultimately, it misrepresented my powers.

I was so much more than a glorified piece of artillery. At first, I'd fallen in love with my ability to fire projectiles, but in the end, it wasn't as useful as I would have hoped. Too powerful, too deadly, to be used on a day to day basis. If nothing else, the last few weeks' practice in the Ship Graveyard had shown me that. Killing someone as a hero was no joke. Besides, everything I could do, from moving and shaping metal, to seeing people through walls, to manipulating one of the primary forces in the universe, cried out to be described to the world.

Unfortunately, I didn't have that amazingly descriptive pronoun currently available. I was still searching for it. Until then, I was leaning towards Electra. Or maybe Surge.

I stepped into Parian's shop, and automatically locked the door behind me, turning the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Giving her a wave, I walked back to the rear area where she actually made her items, everything from clothing to giant animals. Parian looked up with a smile.

"Hello, Railgun, what can I do for you today?"

I felt my face heat. "Uh, actually, I'm reconsidering that name. So, uh, could you call me Electra? At least for now. I looked it up and it wasn't taken by anyone."

I couldn't see her face behind her mask, but I got the impression she was amused. At least she didn't laugh at me over what I'd just told her. "Sure thing, Electra."

I hesitated about the next bit, but finally got out. "I've got a bit of a problem. Victoria Dallon... err... that's Glory Girl, saw the top and pants I wore to school the other day. Now she wants to know who made them for me so that she can get a set made for herself. I didn't tell her, but she won't leave me alone. She's kinda relentless."

There was a bit of frostiness in Parian's voice as she asked, "What did you want me to do about it?"

I quickly reassured her. "Nothing! I won't tell her. But I wanted to give you a heads up in case you ran into her in your civilian identity while wearing one of those outfits we made. So that you wouldn't be caught out."

Her voice back to normal, Parian said, "Thanks... Electra. I appreciate the heads up. I wouldn't want anyone to know who I am when I'm not wearing my costume. I do value my privacy."

I didn't bother to tell her that if I ran into her outside of the store while she was dressed as a civilian, I would immediately know who she was from her bio-electric field. I didn't think that she would take to kindly to it, but it wasn't as if I could shut the vision off. Especially when it came to certain people, as they seemed to shine so much brighter than others. Parian was one of those with a very strong field, as was Chris and some of his friends, and I could recognize them easily, even through walls and out to my maximum distance.

The more I experimented with seeing individual's bio-electric fields, the more I'd come to realize that they were like fingerprints, each unique to that same individual. Recognizing people through seeing their bio-electric fields was just the latest thing I'd come to understand about my power. Sadly, not behind me, as my vision still stubbornly refused to extend beyond an arc of about two hundred and twenty degrees (I had finally measured it as accurately as I could). But I could definitely see anyone in front of me. In costume or out, I'd know them again. Especially since I didn't seem to be able to forget someone I saw that way. For some reason, it seemed imprinted on my brain.

It was yet another oddity of having a power like mine. The more I explored it, the more questions I had and the more I didn't understand the limitations I'd encountered. Still, I had a feeling that I was going to find a lot more uses for it before I was done. Then my thoughts were interrupted as Parian spoke again.

"Did you want me to make you anything else? My offer still stands, two outfits to one."

I considered, then decided against it. "No, I'm good. With all of the things you already made me, I think I'm set."

If she was disappointed, her mask concealed it. "That's fine. Then I wish you a good day."

"See you later, Parian."

Stepping back out of the shop after flipping the OPEN sign back over, I briefly considered what to do with the rest of my day. I'd made tentative plans to eat dinner with Chris at Fugly Bob's, but I wasn't sure I wanted to. Especially since I thought he was going to ask me to the dance this coming Saturday.

Fortunately, the plans were tentative enough that if I didn't show up, I wouldn't have to feel bad. As suddenly as that, I made up my mind to instead go on a quick run down the Boardwalk and maybe back through one of the slightly more dangerous sections of town.

Heading home to change, I considered why I was doing this. It was a relatively safe bet, going in the late afternoon, as there was unlikely to be much crime beyond a few prostitutes. And I wanted to get at least a brief lay of the land before I started going out at night in costume. Which would hopefully be very soon.

Setting out at a steady pace allowed me plenty of time to think about things. I was using my new vision all of the time these days, which let me see cracks and uneven sections of sidewalk that might have tripped me up before. Now I was able to flow like water across that same space, hopefully at least somewhat graceful in appearance.

I didn't know if what I was doing would be classified as a Thinker or Breaker power. But whatever it was I was doing, it made for a much easier run, as I knew exactly where to place each foot to contact the surface beneath. I could _see_ exactly how far away things were in relation to every part of my body, which was pretty neat.

As I ran, I moved my head from side to side, seeing the world in infinite detail around me. It was a heady feeling, although less so on my return trip through a seedier part of town.

If seeing the world in such detail around the nicer area of the Boardwalk had been wonderful, seeing crack whores and junkies the same was was infinitely less pleasant. I tried not to wince as I saw a drug deal go down, penny ante though it probably was. I did wince as I passed a shadowy alley containing two figures, one on her knees in front of the other.

I actually turned my head in disgust as the alley wasn't remotely shadowy to me and the prostitute performing oral sex was doing so in clear view. So this was the world of the Docks, once you got away from the Boardwalk. I couldn't say I was surprised. Sickened, yes. Surprised, no.

It was Merchant territory, the weakest of Brockton Bay's three gangs. These people were typical of the lost souls that filled its ranks. Lost souls, defeated by life, they'd given up and immersed themselves in drugs, violence, and other sensations. I hated the idea of interacting with them, but they needed to dealt with, if regular citizens were to remain safe. The thought of one of them breaking into my house and hurting me or my dad to get money to support their habit filled me with a quiet rage. I couldn't find it within myself to pity them.

It was here that I was going to strike first, I decided, even as I increased the cooling of my body, my sweat drying as my core heat bled off. As soon as my armor was ready, I was going to hit these people. I'd use my innate taser ability to weaken and terrorize them until they left. I'd destroy their drugs and burn their money wherever I found it. After all, I didn't need it and refused the temptation. In the end, I vowed I would be stronger than them.

Smiling fiercely, I finished my run.

~~~Railgun~~~

"Taylor! Hey, Taylor!"

I turned towards the voice calling my name. It was Chris. He walked up to me smiling. Despite myself, I returned his smile. It was nice to have a friend. I just hoped that I wouldn't have to refuse to take our relationship any further than friendship. But it seemed Chris had other plans.

"What's up, Chris?"

He stopped in front of me. To my slowly growing horror, Chris scuffed his shoe as he refused to meet my eyes. He wasn't...

He was. "Taylor, can I ask you something?"

No. A thousand times no. "Uh, sure."

It came out all in a rush. "WouldyougotothedancewithmeonSaturday?"

Sadly, I could easily interpret it. Prepared to refuse, I hesitated. Would it be so wrong to go to one dance with a boy? I'd never have gotten that chance if I was still going to Winslow, of that I was sure. Here at Arcadia, I'd had a new start. Was the new Taylor going to be a coward and refuse to live? Refuse to experience new things?

Watching the nervous face of the boy facing me, I realized that I wasn't the only one battling fear and uncertainty. Chris felt the same way. Yet he'd summoned the courage to ask. Could I do anything less?

"I... Yes, Chris, I'll go to the dance with you. But as friends. Okay?" There. I'd set limits on the 'date.' It was up to him to accept or refuse them.

However, from the look on Chris' face, he didn't seem to mind them. He might be even be glad for them. He gave me a big smile. "Great! I'll... uh, pick you up at seven on Saturday. Okay?"

"Uh sure." I smiled. I wasn't anymore suave than him, so maybe this was the perfect kind of date.

"It's okay that we'll be going with Dennis, Brian, and Dean and their dates, right?"

Way to make an impression of a fish, Taylor, I silently told myself. I nodded, despite my misgivings. After all, what could go wrong?

~~~Railgun~~~

I stared at the armor that was finally finished. It was frankly beautiful in a terrifying war-like sort of a way. Gleaming black, every single piece looked like it had been made in some kind of high tech factory instead of by hand, lines and surface being perfectly crisp and flat. Most factories couldn't have come close to how finely I had formed the edges and surfaces, their machining efforts falling far short.

Wearing it, I was going to look like a cross between Boba Fett, a Spartan super-soldier, and a medieval knight. I only knew about the second because of the time I had spend researching ideas for my armor's appearance.

Being happy with my armor, I set myself to working out. Class had been a bit stressful, if only because I'd agreed to go out with Chris to the dance in five days time. I needed to work off some of that stress here.

This time I was heading over to a ship far to the north of my usual hide out. I needed to really push my ability to move around metal and so was here, in what was probably the most damaged ship out of all of those in the graveyard.

This ship had been nearly split in half by some collision and huge pieces of steel littered the hold. It was to one of those that I headed, an enormous piece of tangled steel that probably weighed thirty-five to forty tons. Setting my will to the task, I went to move it.

My power lashed out, bolts of electricity flying off as an after effect of the sheer magnitude of the forces I was attempting to harness. It wasn't easy, and sweat poured off my face as did I did so, but eventually I got it to move. I could literally feel a deep fatigue beginning in my body as if I was at the end of much longer run than usual.

As I moved the huge chunk of metal back and forth, struggling with its sheer inertia, I could feel the endless well that I was tapping with my power. As always, it wasn't even close to being drained, feeling as bottomless as ever. It always felt that way. When I struggled after a prolonged use of my power, it wasn't because the well was running dry, but rather that I was too exhausted to still draw from it.

I didn't understand why that was. From all of my readings of other's powers, most did not work that way. I don't think that those who had powers that did not appear to have limits like Tinkers, for example, felt like this. On the other hand, most of those who did have physical powers usually got tired after a long period of using them with some exceptions, like Alexandria. Other powers, such as a Stranger's, did not appear to have any limit to how long they could go.

It was a mystery. But I was growing stronger, my mind and body more capable of tapping into that endless fount. And as I grew stronger and more able to work with it, I started to wonder if I was tapping something like the Earth's own electromagnetic field. If so, it would be, for all intents and purposes, endless in supply.

Just the thought that this was the source of what I was doing, went far beyond intimidating. It was too much like one of the Endbringers, Behemoth, the dynakinetic who was capable of generating enormous bolts of lightning as well as intense radiation. Maybe I was being ridiculous, but anything smacking of them or their abilities would be enough to rattle anyone.

Still holding the massive metal piece up in the air, I took a running leap high onto the wall, using my ability to make myself as light as I could. I managed to jump nearly ten feet into the air, landing on the metal hull. I climbed around as quickly as I could while still moving the metal around. If I had been sweating before, I was doing so doubly now. I automatically shunted more power into cooling myself off, excess heat radiating off into my surroundings.

Shortly after that, I hit a wall. I tried to pick up up another piece of tangled steel that probably weighed only a ton or so, and it didn't move beyond trembling in place. Blood was thundering in my head as I tried to push myself past this point. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to continue moving along the wall while again attempting to move the second piece. I almost had it when dark spots began dancing in front of my vision and I had to release everything except my grip on the wall to keep from blacking out.

I was panting as I shakily climbed down. The spots were clearing, but I could feel a deep weariness that was beyond just the body. I could admit that those spots worried me. As had the brief blurring of my vision.

I had finally figured out that my eyesight hadn't improved because of any manipulation of my own bio-electric field. Instead, I was seeing without actually using my eyes. Instead, I was seeing into the electromagnetic spectrum itself. In this case, it was the spectrum visible to everyone. But to have it start to fail like that meant I was pushing myself past where I could maintain even my vision, which I considered more passive than anything else.

In the end, none of that mattered. Tomorrow night, I was going out. I'd be Electra. I would kick ass and take names. And I'd start the process of cleaning up my city. I'd start to be a hero.

~~~Railgun~~~

As I silently hovered there, over a brightly lit cityscape beneath me, I felt like every single thing I'd had to deal with to get here was worth it. The bright lights of Brockton Bay looked like jewels beneath me. Even as I switched my vision over, it still looked wonderful, even if I could see things as clear as day now.

I slowly lowered myself, using electromagnetic energy to move my armored body in the direction I wanted. It took only a couple of minutes to find the same street that I'd seen a couple of days before. As I moved across the landscape, I kept an eye out for criminal behavior.

Not that I had to look very far. Almost immediately, I spotted what could only be drug deals, as cash and small baggies exchanged hands. Even from a hundred feet above them, I could see the details as clear as crystal. My new vision was almost eerie. And sometimes disgusting as I spotted yet another couple engaged in sex.

I turned away from what was likely a prostitute and her john. Tonight I was after bigger game. I wanted to find at least a drug lab or central hub from where the drugs were being distributed. That would likely mean not just drugs, but cash. Robbing the Merchants of both would be far more damaging than just roughing up a few minor dealers.

So I needed to scout them. Get some kind of intelligence on locations. All of which would take time. Which was okay, as tonight, I had nothing but time.

All of which sounded great in my head, but turned out to be less than accurate, to say the least. Especially, as an hour later, I was bored to tears. That's when I saw anothing car making its way through the streets, incidentally stopping at each of the spots where a dealer hung out.

Again, I saw the exchange of money for drugs, but this time, it was the dealers handing over the money and the passenger of the car giving out the drugs. A resupply operation. Had to be. Now I just had to follow them back to their headquarters.

From above, I stayed with the car as it traveled its route. It took another hour, but it finally seemed to be done resupplying drugs to the various pushers on the streets and was heading more or less in a straight direction.

The car stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse and two men got out, one carrying a black gym bag. As they went inside, I pushed myself to see the bio-electric fields of the people inhabiting it. There were at least thirty, including two that shone brighter than the others. I made a careful note of that and moved closer.

There were a few dirty windows, high up on a wall, and I hovered next to one. Unfortunately, it had been painted over. Thinking about it just a second, I freed the metal cable on my right hip, the one studded with pieces of razor sharp metal. Carefully, I lined it up so that one of the metal edges could cut into the glass. Inscribing a quick square out to the edges of the pain with the sharpened edge, I used my clinging power to grasp the glass and pull it towards me.

It came free from the frame with only the faintest of tinkling sounds. A quick move up and away let me deposit it upon the roof. Then I was back to the window, looking down and into the warehouse.

I saw a large open space, lit with a few fluorescent fixtures, that contained several long tables covered in piles of powders and pills that could only be drugs. Mostly naked women sat at the table, wearing only underwear and paper masks over their mouths, weighing and sorting those same drugs.

Another table held a stack of a dozen or so of empty black gym bags, as well as, hundreds of stacks of bills being carefully counted by six men. My eyebrows rose at the sight. There had to be at least a couple hundred thousand dollars down there. God only knew how much there was at a similar operation with of one of the other two more powerful gangs. I guess crime really did pay, especially if this was the third best gang in Brockton Bay. But not tonight.

I scanned the bio-electric fields of everyone present, knowing that I would recognize them again. Again, I saw the two that stood out. One was a man, obviously a cape, wearing only the upper half of a mask, leaving the bottom half of his face bare. It was one of those cases where covering it all would have been better. The exposed skin was dark in color, with his lips so badly chapped it looked like cracks ran through them. His teeth were stained, and so dull in sheen, they looked like shelled nuts. The rest of his outfit was dark blue and skintight, but left a strip of flabby dark flesh exposed around his midsection. His bio-electric field burned bright, but was filled with streaks that looked darker, resembling the normal people in the room.

His companion looked no better. The girl, who couldn't be older than eighteen, was streaked with oil stains, some even in her dirty blonde hair. Her outfit consisted only of a skimpy white top without a bra and shorts so tiny that I was embarrassed for her. I didn't think she could look worse naked. Caked on makeup covered her face in lieu of a mask. Her bio-electric field resembled the man's, only worse, as the darker streaks were bigger.

Skidmark and Squealer. Had to be. Two of the Parahumans that ruled the Merchants. Skidmark was capable of creating areas and lines of unidirectional force, effectively warping space. He could pull people and objects in the direction he wanted, while making it difficult to move against the effect. Supposedly, he could layer the effect to make it even stronger. On the other hand, Squealer was a Tinker who specialized in building vehicles. From what I'd read, she went for size, augmentations and additions when she built her vehicles.

Case in point. Behind the couple was a monster truck with oversized tires, even for one of them, a huge, functional circular saw decorating the front in place of a grill, and some kind of energy cannon on the cab's roof. It was as ugly as sin, sitting there without doors or glass in the windows. More importantly, it looked poorly put together and _tacky._

Other than the two of them, there were a dozen men scattered around the room armed with a variety of street weapons, from .38 specials to baseball bats studded with nails. I couldn't say I was impressed with my opposition.

Staring at the scene beneath me, I thought about my options. Despite their appearance and addictions, the two Parahumans were still the most dangerous out of everyone present. If I could take them out of the fight early, I would have no problems with the normal humans.

More than anything, I wished at that moment that my power let me become invisible so that I could sneak up on people. Sadly, it did not. So I decided to go for the next best thing.

I'd spotted a skylight at the top of the building, with glass or plastic panes. Neither would prove much of a hindrance to the weight of my armor. I silently rose three hundred feet into the air and hovered directly over that skylight. No one's bio-electric field was directly under it, although the two Parahumans were nearby. Perfect. I relaxed the grip my power had on my armor and allowed myself to plummet.

I was definitely at terminal velocity as I hit the skylight and covered the distance to the ground so fast heads were just beginning to turn at the crashing noise. I bled off almost all of my velocity just above the ground, but still hit with a loud CLANG! I'd landed less than twenty feet from the Parahuman duo, and didn't waste even a second in blasting the surrounding area with a taser blast equivalent to a hundred thousand volts.

Both of the Parahumans, and several of the guard went down spasming, caught in the effect. I released it after a few seconds, not wanting to put anyone in cardiac arrest. A bullet sparked off the armor of the plate covering my back. I turned and launched a blast in the direction from which it came, sending the man holding it into convulsions. Looking around, I saw that was eight down.

Several of the remaining guards, looking uncertain, started edging my way, holding mostly melee weapons. I released the metal whip on my left hip, this one studded with metal weights, and sent it flying at the group.

Impacting, it broke several bones as it sent four men flying. I was easily able to manipulate the metal and sent it into the remaining guards with a similar result. That took care of the guards. Now for everyone else.

I was just about to tell the women and men who were handling the drugs and money to get out, when something suddenly pushed me to the side. It would have sent me crashing to the ground except it was electromagnetic energy, not my muscles, holding me erect. Still, I stumbled slightly.

Turning, I saw the spot where I'd down Skidmark and Squealer empty. Note to self, Parahumans need more tasering than normal humans. I was caught up in Skidmarks power, and even as I watched, he sent another wave of it cascading over my position.

There was a band of glowing energy covering the ground in front of me. The edge nearest to me was a pale blue that graduated all the way to a dark purple on the side opposite to me. Even as I looked, another wave settled down to my left, blue side in. Tentatively, I pushed against the blue side and immediately felt resistance. It felt oddly familiar, as if I were remembering something that I'd forgotten years before.

Pushing harder, I fought my way further through the effect. This was ridiculous, I thought. Still, I was making headway, even as a third band settled to my right. I was almost through the front ones, pushing as hard as I would lifting a twenty ton weight, when the monster truck behind Skidmark roared to life, a figure standing on the bed.

The energy cannon, which I hadn't thought I needed to worry about since I'd taken down Squealer, was now manned and being aimed at me by that selfsame villain. She pushed a button, and the tip of the gun lit up with a bright white light which grew steadily brighter as some kind of charge increased.

I was just about to try to take off and head upwards in panic, when I realized exactly what the charge that was building consisted of. I could feel its effects washing over me and bringing a smile of relief to my face. The gun was an electromagnetic cannon. I suddenly realized that Squealer must think I was wearing powered armor. She was about to hit me with an EMP blast. My own power, trying to be used against me.

I stopped moving even as a smile crossed my face behind my mask. I waited the ten seconds it took for the charge to reach maximum and fire. Finally, after what felt like far longer, the cannon erupted with a surge of glittering white energy.

The energy hit the boundary of Skidmark's effect and effortlessly passed through. It struck me like a ton of bricks and I arched my back in bliss as pure electromagnetic force hammered into me. I felt completely refreshed, as if I'd had a good night's sleep. My body was completely relaxed in the aftermath.

Tentatively, I pressed against Skidmark's effect. He'd managed to layer a third band of energy in front of me. I could feel the effect of the energy pressing upon me, trying to force me back. Then I understand, as if blinders had been released from my eyes. Why the energy felt familiar. Skidmark's bands were another form of electromagnetic force. Reaching out my senses, I could feel the energy itself, and with a twist, I shattered the bands into glowing blue and purple shards that flew everywhere, harmlessly dissipating as they landed. I could have just as easily absorbed them, but this was more dramatic.

Certainly Skidmark seemed to think so from the look of fear that crossed his face as I advanced towards him through the remnants. He tried to scramble away as I hammered him flat with a taser blast three times as intense as the first one I'd hit him with. He went down like a ton of bricks and didn't move, out cold.

Meanwhile, Squealer had managed to crawl into the cab of the monster truck and drive it to the back of the warehouse. Then she'd turned it back around towards me. Now she was heading my way at over fifty miles an hour and still accelerating, the engine of the vehicle furiously roaring. I didn't hesitate, raising my hand and launching a five gram metal disk into the air even as I charged electromagnetic rails. I fired straight into what used to be grill of the truck, causing it to explode, and flipping it upside-down where it crashed to a sliding stop just short of where I stood. I could hear the snaps and pops of energy discharges from within the wreckage as I turned away.

Completing my turn, I surveyed the rest of the scene. All of the guards were down. Squealer and Skidmark were taken care of. There were only a couple of fires, but those would quickly burn out from lack of fuel. That left just the drugs and money to be dealt with.

I leaped into the air on a cloud of electromagnetic force and landed forcefully right next to the two tables, drawing cries from the people hiding beneath them. Raising my voice, I shouted, "I want every one of you to come out right now! You're going to drag all of those men outside! Then-"

One of the male counters stood up. With false bravado, he shouted back, "I ain't going to do shit for-"

I made him dance for thirty seconds with a taser burst before he collapsed to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Waiting a moment, I asked, "Is there anyone else who wants to be a draggee rather than a dragger? If so, speak up!" I waited two beats. "No? Let me repeat! Drag those men outside! Then I want you gone! From this neighborhood and from this city!"

One woman raised a trembling hand, her face a mask of fear. "Or what?"

"I do this to you."

I flipped another metal disc into the air, a ten gram this time, and launched it toward the rear of the warehouse, blasting a hole in the back wall big enough to drive ten monster trucks through. It made everyone in front of me cower in terror.

I commanded, "Get moving." I also directed one of the stoutest of the remaining men to retrieve Squealer from the twisted wreckage of her truck. I knew she'd survived as I could still see her bio-electric signature in the remains.

I then waited motionless until all of the bodies were outside, only using my power to gather up the various weapons to set them next to the drugs. Once everyone was gone, I rose into the air and hovered above the tables. Pulling more and more energy into me, a brilliant corona began to form around me, as occasional arcs of electricity struck the roof and ceiling. Once I had drawn enough, I fired it all straight down into the stacks of pills, powders, and bills.

The blast burned everything to ashes and scattered lumps of molten metal. Most people didn't realize that the inside of a lightning bolt was over forty thousand degrees Fahrenheit. In effect, that was exactly what I had just fired into the various illegal items beneath me. At that temperature, paper bills turned to ash, guns melted to slag, and drugs had all of their chemical bonds broken, reducing them to a charred mess.

The only other thing I did before leaving was use the same blast on the remains of the monster truck, destroying anything that had survived my railgun blast. Finally satisfied, I rose back through the skylight and flew off into the night, stopping only to call the police and report a group of unconscious criminals outside a warehouse, before heading home.

~~~Railgun~~~

**AN:** I had time to think about things and have decided not to make Taylor's official cape name Railgun. That's not to say that she won't end up getting called that, but it be more in terms of a nickname, mostly given by criminals as in "Look out, it's that crazy Railgun bitch! Get her!"

So if anyone has suggestions, please let me know. To those who have already volunteered suggestions, they are much appreciated.

By the time I post the next chapter, Taylor's name will be set in concrete. So get those thought processes going.

Thanks to you all for reading.


	7. Arc 2: Aiming—201 Interlude b

**Arc 2: Aiming—2.01 Interlude b**

Miss Militia watched the footage of the interrogation of the cape known as Skidmark. His disgusting appearance stirred her stomach in an uneasy fashion as did his behavior. On the screen, he wore a high tech blindfold and his hands were fastened together in heavy titanium cuffs, used only on the most dangerous Parahumans. It didn't seem fitting for him to be wearing them, which was probably why they'd been changed out later for normal restraints.

Armsmaster was personally leading the interrogation, likely because the incident in which Skidmark had been captured involved a new cape with unknown abilities. While it wasn't SOP, Miss Militia could understand his interest.

Armsmaster had finally convinced the crashing cape to talk about what had happened by promising him medical attention for his withdrawal symptoms as soon as they were done. Miss Militia set herself to watch.

_Armsmaster: (controlled) What happened after the skylight broke?_

_Skidmark: (his eyes were darting around wildly) All hell broke loose. This pisser in black armor just crashed to the ground in front of us. Controlled-like. The shit jockey hit us with some freaky taser built into his armor. My boys went down like a buncha cunts. Me and Squeal got tapped too. (his head is nodding to further emphasize his words)_

_Armsmaster: And then what happened?_

_Skidmark: (crazy smile) I woke the fuck up. Can't keep me down. Fuck no. And I got the muther fucker. I laid it right across his front. My blues. The cum-gargling ass drip was stuck behind it. I put another one one either side of him. Then more in front cause he was pushing through. Fuck! Then behind and I had him wrapped up, like a fucking gift..._

_Armsmaster: (prompting) So what happened?_

_Skidmark: (haltingly) Squealer, she gets up on her truck, man. It's loaded. Got all the bells and whistles. Like a kickass stereo. And a cannon. She's yelling to back off cause she's gonna shoot the shit turd. Which she did._

_Armsmaster: Did it stop him?_

_Skidmark: (agitated) Fuck no! Bitch just soaked it in like it was high grade crank. Not even a ripple left. Then he puts his hands back on my blues and they just broke into a million pieces. Like they was made outta glass or something. Then the cockgargler hit me again. Fried my brain like it was bacon. I don't remember nothing else 'cept I woke up here._

_Armsmaster: (dismissively) Thanks for your cooperation._

_Skidmark: (desperation coloring his voice) Hey, man, you gonna get me some candy now, ain't you? Some of that legal stuff? I'm hurtin' here, a'ight?_

MissMilitia switched to the second interrogation tape, the one featuring Squealer. She sat there, bandaged and hurting, her head down on the table in front of her. She finally raised it, a snarl on her face, to look at Armsmaster.

_Squealer: (combative) I ain't talking to no fuzz. Fuck off, Mr Armorman. You ain't got shit on me, anyway. _

_Armsmaster: (threatening) You're going down on multiple counts. The only way you'll earn any mitigation is if I say you've been cooperative. If not, they'll throw the book at you. Plus until you've talked, I am withholding further medical attention. That means you're going cold turkey._

_Squealer: (desperation) Fucker! All you of fuckers! Fuck! Fuckers! Oh God!_

_Armsmaster: (soothingly) It's up to you._

_Squealer: (body language of surrender; eyes down) What you want to know?_

_Armsmaster: Just what happened in your words._

_Squealer: Me and Skid were having a sweet night. Plenty of candy and the cash had rolled in that day. We'd just finished getting busy. I was getting ready to tune my ride up. Then..._

_Armsmaster: Then?_

_Squealer: Black bastard dropped out of nowhere. Ass fucker. (Covetous expression on her face) His armor was rad, though. The shitheel fucking tased me. Fuck, he tased everybody. All the joes, you know? _

_Armsmaster: (promptingly) So you lost consciousnesses?_

_Squealer: Fuck. Yeah, I was out. When I woke up, Skids was fucking his shit up. The black armored bitch, I mean. Had him on the ropes. I was gonna help him so I got on my truck. I had this rad piece of artillery on it. Real futuristic shit. It fired an EMP that would put any of you armor turds down. Fry your metal suits like a Mickey D's apple pie._

_Armsmaster: (forbidding) But that's not what happened, is it?_

_Squealer: (whining) Noooo, it wasn't. I had him dead to rights, locked and loaded. And I hit him square. The effect was so totally rad, too. I know I had him dead to rights. _

_Armsmaster: (coaxing) Exactly what happened when you struck his armor with the EMP?_

_Squealer: (eyes blank) Nothing. Absoxactly nothing. He... ate it. Like it just soaked in. Then he went all postal on Skids. Busted his bands like they was nothing. Took him down. Me, I..._

_Armsmaster: What did you do, Squealer?_

_Squealer: (eyes still distant) I got in my ride and took off. I was thinking about busting out the back, you know? That black bastard was nasty. But then I saw Skids, lying there all broke 'n stuff. I wasn't letting the shit get away with that. So I ran him down._

_Armsmaster: (shuffling papers in front of him) You hit him with the truck you'd modified to a Class 2 Tinker's rig?_

_Squealer: (shaking her head in disbelief) Nah. I tried, though. I put the pedal to the metal, for sure. First, he's just standing there and I'm thinking he's fucked. But then he does something. Looks like he's throwing something up in the air. That's when everything went to fuck. There was this light and I was flying upside down. I don't remember landing._

_Armsmaster: (getting up to leave) Thank you for your cooperation, Squealer._

_Squealer: (voice loud and agitated) You going to get that fuck, Mr Armorman? You going after him? If you do, bust him up! Hit him for me! The fucker! Fuck him up! F-_

MissMilitia shut off the monitor with a frown. How those two had escaped custody was beyond her. Then again, that was probably exactly how they'd escape, since everyone they encountered tended to underestimate them, hence the change to ordinary restraints from the earlier Class 2's. Plus, they'd had assistance from another Parahuman member of the Merchants, Mush, the one who used garbage and other loose materials to make his powered form. It had been him who had overturned the Protectorate van they'd been in and took on Battery for the few minutes it had taken Skidmark and Squealer to get loose, leaving her covered in filth and blazingly angry.

With a sigh, Miss Militia put aside the idea of humbled capes and lessons learned, and concentrated back on the unknown cape, the main reason she was working late. Again. She'd already reviewed the interviews with the various human participants from the men who had acted as hired muscle, to one man who had apparently been a money counter. For the most part, all of their accounts meshed and she added them to the file.

Unfortunately, the only other real intelligence they'd garnered on the unknown cape had come from the money counter, who had said that the armored figure had fired some kind of brilliant beam of light at Squealer's truck, which had struck the front of the vehicle, blasting it up into the air where it had finally crashed down right in front of the cape. From what the money counter had said, Squealer was lucky to be alive, let alone get out with only minor injuries. Reviewing the photos from the scene, Miss Militia agreed with his analysis, unless Squealer's truck was a lot tougher than the shattered remnants appeared.

Afterward, the same witness had seen the cape leap at least fifty feet through the air in a couple of seconds to land right in front of the two tables where the drugs and money had been stacked Unfortunately, he'd said something offensive, which had earned him the same treatment as the rest of his confederates, a quick trip to unconsciousness.

Forensic evidence at the scene had shown large scale traces of magnetism present in many of the metallic items littering the warehouse. Additionally, watches and phones of almost everyone present had been destroyed by some form of electromagnetic energy, although both occurrences were likely a result of the EMP cannon that Squealer had used and not the armored figure's own electrical powers.

There were no drugs or money at the scene, but forensics had shown that they had been present, just destroyed by an intense amount of heat. Acts of that nature likely marked the unknown as a vigilante or rogue cape, since most villains would have at least taken the money, even if they had no use for the drugs. Of course, the only other possibility was unpalatable to say the least, that the unknown was a villain setting up their own territory while working to destroy a rival's.

It would have helped if they could have talked to one of the people who had remained conscious throughout the engagement, but they had all scattered like roaches before the PRT troops had arrived at the scene. Maybe one of them could have explained the reason for the the gaping hole in the rear of the building, where the back wall was simply... gone. None of the people taken into custody had known anything about it, so it had clearly taken place after the bulk of the fighting was finished.

One of the Protectorate Thinkers, Eleventh Hour, had theorized that the unknown cape was using an armored battlesuit that possessed strong electrical energies for both flight and offense. That would make the unknown at least a Tinker 4 with a specialty in armored suits and electricity, along with a Mover 3, Brute 3, Blaster 3 classifications as well because of the same armored suit.

MissMilitia tentatively added Thinker 2 to the file, as the unknown cape had easily outwitted two experienced Parahumans, even if they were a couple of drug-addled idiots. Even idiots are dangerous when they had powers as Battery had learned to her chagrin earlier that day. Then she changed her mind. There simply wasn't enough evidence to support the classification. Best to err on the side of caution she decided.

Finally, Miss Militia added a Trump 2 to the file as well, since the cape had somehow negated both the effects of that EMP cannon of Squealer's and Skidmark's blue bands of force. The resulting amalgamation was definitely a concern: Blaster 3, Brute 3, Mover 3, Tinker 4, and Trump 2. A cape with all of those abilities would be both strong and versatile, to say the least. She could only hope he was on their side and not a villain acting to seize territory and build reputation.

The last thing that Miss Militia added to the file was a tentative name for the unknown. Glancing over all of the abilities he had shown, she wrote down _Tesla_ at the top of the file. It seemed to fit. Miss Militia set the file in her out box. She'd have Armsmaster review it tomorrow. For now, it was time to go home.

~~~Railgun~~~

Skidmark threw the TV's remote control against the wall, breaking it into pieces. The big flat screen TV had been one of the few items they'd retrieved relatively intact from the warehouse, but it didn't work. Just like everything else there, it was fucked to hell and back. And Squealer didn't have time to fix it, too busy working on another truck, this one bigger and badder than the last.

He hated being here, in this crackhouse. It smacked of hiding. So what if it was where they'd started out before the warehouse? It wasn't home anymore and it chaffed.

The meth in Skidmark's veins made the world feel clear and a rush, both at the same time. He was at once angry and paranoid. He was so full of energy that he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs until his voice was hoarse and scratchy. But he didn't as it wouldn't solve his problem of what to do about the fucker who'd hit them. Who'd _humiliated_ them.

Hell, they didn't even know the asswipe's name, let alone where to find him. Without some kind of intel, they couldn't do shit to the fucker. It left him feeling angry and wanting to hit someone. Anyone. Just so that he could make the world feel whole again. So he wouldn't be wondering when someone else was going to disrespect them, attacking because they knew there would be no consequences.

Skidmark knew that the Merchants didn't have the respect and admiration of the other villain gangs in Brockton Bay. His was considered the weakest, which was bullshit as far as he was concerned. Their territory may have been what none of the others wanted, although why that was, he didn't know. It was ripe with potential, after all, and he took in good money every day from the junkies and whores who littered the landscape.

That was part of the problem. The cash at the warehouse had been most of their take for the entire month. They were supposed to pay everybody out of it, from muscleboys to baggers. Now it was gone, either stolen or ash. He wasn't sure he believed that armored fuck who said it had been burned up. Nah, it was more likely they'd confiscated it, using it for their own shit. Fucking thieves.

But he was left in the hole because of it. Now he had no cash for more product or to pay his peeps. He'd have to rebuild, not from scratch, but close enough.

Worse, they'd become the laughing stock of Brockton Bay. The Nazis and Chinks from the Empire and the ABB were laughing at him. Squealer had told him so. It was why she was working so hard on her new ride. She said they needed to make a statement. To hit someone. Hurt them bad. That'd show the other gangs that they were for real. And here to stay.

But Skidmark didn't have the slightest idea of who to take down. Despite his bravado, he wasn't keen on messing around with the other capes, either the heroes or the villains. That left civilians.

While he didn't mind hurting somebody, Skidmark didn't think that hitting his own territory's peeps was smart. No, he concluded, it wasn't. So he needed to hurt someone else. Someone easy. Someone vulnerable. But someone high profile enough so that the other gangs would hear. Learn some respect for the Merchants.

"Yo, Skids! I got something for you!"

Skidmark turned upon hearing his name called, his mind still in chaos. "What the fuck you want, Squealer? I thought you were making another ride."

The sexy object of his affections walked up to him and grabbed him through his loose-fitting warm up pants, rubbing him up and down. What the fuck? Did the bitch want to go right here and now?

Skidmark was considering doing just that when she laughed and spun away, sprawling on a nearby couch, her shorts so brief they nearly showed the object of his interest. She waved a paper at him.

"I was. It's almost done. But I got something better. One of the crew was over on Twenty-second Avenue, over by the Arcade. He saw this flyer and thought we might like to see it."

"Bitch, give that here." Skidmark snatched the flyer from Squealer's hand. Flattening out the wrinkled paper, he stared uncomprehendingly at the print for a moment as he struggled to read it. Then slowly, as if by magic, all of the chaos of his thoughts disappeared. He knew exactly what they were going to do. Exactly what statement they were going to make. They'd be in and out _fast_, like shit from a goose, just staying long enough to cause the maximum amount of damage.

Laughing like a hyena, Skidmark wadded up the flyer and tossed it into the corner. When it landed, only one letter were visible on its crumpled form, a stylized A.

Skidmark crowed in triumph, "We are going to fuck those rich fuckers up!" Without another word, he jumped on Squealer, who lived up to her name, intent on celebrating the best idea of his life. A few minutes later, the only sound in the room was the slapping of flesh on flesh.

~~~Railgun~~~


End file.
